Eight and a Half
by ImagineBackstory
Summary: Literati. Set in present day, eight and a half years after the Truncheon kiss, Rory and Jess are unexpectedly reunited in Stars Hollow after Rory impulsively sends Jess an invitation to her wedding. When the wedding is suddenly postponed and Rory moves to New York, they are left with eight and a half years of suppressed feelings and only one outlet to let them out: each-other.
1. Opening Ceremony & The Invitation

A/N: This is slightly AU. I am halfway through season seven so don't know entirely how it all turns out, but this is how I would like it to after the show ends!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter One – The Opening Ceremony & The Invitation_

**Rory**

"Ouch!" I cried out as Lorelei once again stuck me with a pin.

Lorelei pushed a wayward dark curl out of her eyes and looked up at me apologetically. "Sorry!" she exclaimed. From where I stood up on the stool, my mother looked tired and disheveled, two things Lorelei Gilmore rarely was. A thin layer of sweat was beading at her hairline, and her dark curls were arranged in a straggled bun at the nape of her neck.

I softened as I studied my frenzied mother. In the playpen in the corner of the room, Emerson began to whimper, pulling himself up and staring at us tearfully. Lorelei groaned. "Just five more minutes, honey bun. Mommy's almost done."

"Do you want to do this another time, Mom?" I asked.

Lorelei's face lifted in a lazy grin. "No, no, it has to get done. You don't know how fast this next week is going to go." Her grin became mischievous. "If you would stop losing weight, we wouldn't have to do this so often."

I returned her smile ruefully. "It's amazing what eating at home can do."

"Not to mention stress," Lorelei murmured. "I miss my plumpy girl."

My mouth dropped in protest. "Hey, I was never plump. And I'm not stressed," I tagged on as an afterthought.

Lorelei placed a final pin into the waistband of my dress and then placed her hands decidedly on her hips. "There. I think that's good. Another quarter of an inch to take in. Careful taking it off."

As I carefully peeled the white dress off of me, Lorelei went to scoop Emerson out of the playpen, kissing noisily at his plump red cheek. The eighteen-month-old squirmed in her grip and cried out. Stepping out of the dress and laying it carefully over the back of the armchair, I went over and rubbed my half-brother's fuzzy head, kissing it affectionately.

"Time for a nap," Lorelei announced, and started to head upstairs with the baby.

"I'll start lunch," I volunteered, calling after my mother. She gave a strangled grunt in response as Emerson clawed at her neck.

Wandering into the kitchen, I took a moment to just stand amongst my childhood memories. It had been awhile since I stood in this kitchen, and it had changed so much since then. Luke had outdone himself with the renovations; the kitchen now possessed a sort of country vintage charm to match the rest of the house, all blue gingham wallpaper and smooth granite countertops.

Thankfully, Luke had stocked the fridge full of groceries before my arrival two days ago. I removed the necessary ingredients for grilled cheese and went to work, content despite the strange sensation of cooking a meal for my mother in the familiar—yet at the same time unrecognizable—confines of the kitchen.

"Smells good," Lorelei cooed as she wandered into the room and flopped down at the table. She put her head down on her arms. "Rory, I cannot tell you how exhausted I am."

I turned concerned eyes onto my mother. "I'm guessing he's still not sleeping through the night?"

"Not even close," Lorelei whined. "I swear, he's worse than he was when he had colic. I don't remember ever having these problems with you."

I flipped the gooey grilled cheese sandwiches onto plates and sat across from my mother at the table. She tucked in thoughtfully as I watched with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry to bring all this extra stuff on you," I said guiltily. "I was hoping he would have calmed down by now."

"It's not your fault, sweetie," Lorelei said. "Babies are unpredictable. Besides, this is the perfect summer for a wedding." The late morning sunlight, streaming through the kitchen window, gleamed off the delicate ring on my left hand ring finger. We both admired it for a moment. "Any more RSVPs?" Lorelei asked.

"Two," I responded, mouth full of grilled cheese. "Anna and her boyfriend. They're coming tonight. I don't know why they were so late."

Lorelei wrinkled her nose. "They probably figured Luke would have said something. How many more are you expecting?"

I shrugged. "None, really. It's a week away. I figured the ones I haven't got back just aren't coming." I couldn't keep the edge out of my voice as I said it. A brief image flashed through my mind of a pale yellow envelope sitting, unopened, in a trash bin as a certain dark-haired man lived on nearby, uncaring.

If Lorelei noticed, she didn't say so. "Well, that makes sixty-four confirmed guests. Who hasn't RSVP'd?"

I shifted in my seat, nerves suddenly clutching at my chest. "Uh, mostly distant relatives of James', I think. A couple of his aunts. And..." I trailed off, the name caught in my throat.

"And?" Lorelei prompted.

I took a deep breath. "And Jess," I finished as casually as I could.

Of course, nothing concerning Jess was ever casual for my mother. She dropped her sandwich, sending crumps scattering over the placemat. "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you over my chewing. I could have sworn I just heard you say Jess. Silly me, right?"

I shrugged, stuffing the last bit of my sandwich into my mouth to avoid having to say anything.

"Jess _Mariano_?" Lorelei demanded, her blue eyes wide. She placed a hand on my arm. "Rory, sweetie, baby. You're killing me, here. Please don't tell me that you invited Jess to your _wedding._"

"Alright, I won't tell you," I muttered, laying my hands in my lap to shake off her hand.

"Rory, you can't invite your _ex-boyfriend_ to your _wedding_," Lorelei cried.

"I invited Dean," I pointed out hotly.

Lorelei threw up her hands. "Dean is different. _Dean_ didn't leave you without saying good-bye. _Dean_ has _talked _to you within the past six months! Come to think of it, when was the last time you even saw Jess? It's gotta be nearly ten years now."

"Eight and a half," I corrected her without having to think about it. "And it doesn't matter anyway because he isn't coming." I folded my arms across my chest. I knew I was pouting and that annoyed me almost as much as my mother was right then.

Lorelei was trying to meet my gaze. "Does James know you invited him?" Wordlessly, I got up from the table, collecting mine and Lorelei's plates and dumping them in the sink to be washed. Lorelei sighed, raking a hand through her tousled hair. "I'll take that as a no. Rory, what were you thinking?"

She sounded so tired. I leaned back against the kitchen counter and rolled my eyes towards the ceiling, taking deep breaths to calm myself. "I wasn't—" I stuttered in response. "It's not like I expected him to actually show up. I guess I just thought it was better the invitation was out there than... Considering he would hear about it either way from Luke—" I dropped my gaze to my hands, nervously locking my fingers together. "I guess I wanted him to hear it from me, instead. Is that so crazy?"

Lorelei stood and faced me, placing her hands on my elbows as I folded my arms across my chest. "No, kiddo," she said softly, "it's not crazy. I'm sorry I freaked out."

I shrugged, eager to change the subject. "James should be back soon. I'm gonna go meet him in the square."

My mother didn't protest and I swiftly grabbed my purse, slipped my feet into my sandals and headed out the door.

The heat outside was stifling. As I walked, I gathered my dark hair in a high bun on top of my head, grateful for the breeze it allowed on the back of my neck. The square looked the same as always. Children were running about the gazebo; Kirk and Taylor were arguing about something-or-other nearby, Miss Patty's shouts of _Pirhouette! Arabesque! Fly, ladies, fly! _could be heard from her dance studio.

_Eight and a half years. _Not even since I had last _seen_ Jess; since I had last _spoken _to him. No phone calls within that time. No e-mails, no texts, no random Facebook messages. I didn't even have him as a friend on Facebook, although I had definitely checked out his profile a couple of times over the years. Either he wasn't on it much or he barely changed it at all when he was; his profile picture had only changed a few times, and they were all far away shots of him or not of him at all. Nothing to hint at what he was doing, what he looked like now, if he was seeing anybody. All his other information was private. So, basically, I had zero idea what Jess Mariano had been doing for eight and a half years.

He could be married. He could have _kids. _The thought of Jess with kids sent a shiver up my spine, even in the suffocating midsummer heat. I couldn't picture it. But then again, the Jess I remembered was frozen at twenty-one years old, when he had been starting his career in publishing at Truncheon books and only just shedding his troubled teenager phase. Who knows what he had become since then.

James found me aimlessly drifting around the square, my mind in the clouds. His green eyes were twinkling in the midday sun as he kissed me hello. "You don't even look hungover," I mused, playfully tousling his ash blond hair with my fingers. "Must have been the tamest bachelor party in history."

James chuckled as his hands found my waist, pulling me close. "You seriously doubt my hangover aversion skills, Miss Gilmore." His voice betrayed him; it was gravelly with dry throat. "I just had the most amazing breakfast at my soon-to-be-stepfather-in-law's."

"You went to Luke's?" I asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Aye, we did," he drawled, the Irish in him coming out to play. "He fixed us up proper, like."

I smiled and kissed him gently. "And tonight," I said, tugging on the lapels of his coat, "dinner at the Dragonfly. It's the opening ceremony. I hear Sookie has prepared quite the feast."

"Looking forward to it." He kissed my temple and we wandered back towards my mother's house.

I had met James while covering an off-Broadway play in New York City three years previously. He had been the assistant stage manager and had given me a tour of the theatre and introduced me to the cast for interviews before the show. He was handsome and charming, and the fact that he was fresh off the boat from Dublin added to his boyish, yet at the same time worldly, appeal. He had asked me out for drinks barely before the final curtain went down, and the rest was history. Now we lived together in New Haven, me as a performance arts columnist and reviewer for the New Haven Register, and him a lighting designer at the Shubert Theatre. We were hoping to move to New York within our first year of marriage, however, should our respective careers allow for it. With us both being involved in theatre, it seemed only natural we should reside near the Great White Way.

When I went into journalism, I never thought I would end up with my own column in the arts section, but when I joined the New Haven Register the opportunity came up once and I never looked back. I loved it. It was an excuse to see a variety of shows at various venues for free and meet most of the key cast and crew. I had earned a reputation for being very thoughtful and knowledgable in my reviews, but also very honest, which meant when a production knew I was in the audience, they gave it their all.

After James and I returned to the Gilmore-Danes residence, showered and got ready, it was nearly time to go to Sookie's dinner. I left my hair up since it was still so stinking hot outside, and even pinned my bangs back for good measure. I settled on a white sundress to wear, and James looked striking in a pale blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up, and khaki walking shorts. Lorelei and Luke were dressed in a similar fashion, only Luke wore jeans as usual. Even in the height of summer heat, Luke Danes would never be caught dead in shorts.

The Dragonfly was practically bursting with activity when we arrived. James and I were swept away almost instantly; we had decided to make our wedding a week-long event in Stars Hollow, so our guests would be arriving starting tonight and filtering in throughout the week. There was already a decent handful of people here besides the usual Stars Hollow residents: Zach and Lane had arrived safe and sound, their two young children in tow, and Luke's daughter April was there with her mom, Anna, and Anna's boyfriend Derek.

"Rory!" Lane squealed when she caught sight of me, wading through the crowd to embrace me tightly.

"Hi Lane!" I exclaimed, hugging her back. "It's been forever!"

"I know!" Lane stepped back and sized me up. "You look the same."

I laughed easily. "Thanks, I guess? You don't. You look...well, I don't know, but you look different..."

"Am I...glowing, perhaps?" Lane hinted.

I nodded. She really was. "You really are," I said. Lane was looking at me expectantly, but I was having a stupid moment. "Why are you glowing?"

"Well, we weren't going to tell you until after the wedding, since it's your time and all," Lane started as Zach came up and snaked an arm around her waist. "But since you noticed the glowing we may as well let the cat out of the bag. I'm pregnant!"

My mouth and my eyes fell open. "Again?" I said incredulously.

Lane and Zach laughed. "I know!" Lane cried.

I hugged them both tightly, my whole body suddenly alive with excitement. "Oh my god! Congratulations! That's amazing!" We pulled apart, all momentarily giddy. "So, number three, huh?"

"I know. I swear to God, this is the last one." Lane glanced around furtively. "Just don't tell my mom. If it were up to her we would reproduce until we physically can't anymore."

"That's just disturbing. I don't want to think about you guys reproducing again, let alone trying to when you're going through menopause." I giggled when Lane elbowed me teasingly in the ribs.

I was separated from Lane and Zach after that, mingling endlessly with the teams of people who were there. I felt more alive and vibrant than I had in a while, and truly relaxed. Here I was in my favourite place on earth, surrounded by all the people I loved most dearly, and in a week I would be married to the best man I could have ever hoped for. Something was still nagging at the very back of my mind, something I refused to let surface while I was trying to have fun—something dark-haired, with a lopsided grin and an appreciation of literature I had yet to find in anyone else...

No. Not now. I couldn't think of him now.

Once we were all situated at the long dinner table, Sookie stood and tapped her glass with her spoon to get everyone's attention. James and I, sat at opposite heads of the table, smiled knowingly at each-other.

"Attention everyone," Sookie said, her voice already becoming thick with tears. "We are gathered here today because our girl, Rory, had the brilliant idea of having us all stay here for a whole week to celebrate her _wedding._" She emphasized _wedding _with a cry, earning some shouts and glass-tapping from the patrons seated at the table. When things settled down, Sookie continued, "It is my honour and priviledge to serve you all tonight for the _opening ceremony_, per se, of this week's festivities. Lorelei Gilmore and I would like to welcome you to the Dragonfly, and we would also like to personally congratulate Rory and James on their engagement and impending nuptials. We love you both so much, and can't wait to spend this week celebrating with the two of you. Cheers!"

The table errupted with cheers and laughter and hollers of approval. I felt myself laughing as everyone raised their glasses to James and me. We gave each-other our own private toast, raising eyebrows and smiling at each-other from thirty feet away.

Once the delicious dinner had been consumed and cleared away, a game of beer pong materialised on the dining table. The seating area had been cleared away for dancing, and suddenly the Dragonfly was host to a massive party. I drank way too much, downing glass after glass of wine, letting my body become loose and lazy as James led me around the dance floor, his own eyes glazed from the beer he'd been drinking. There was no rhyme or reason to our dance moves, we just leaned on each-other and swayed to the beat of the music, a playlist of classic party hits. Eventually we were separated for dances with others. I found myself dancing to "Soulja Boi" with Lane, her of course being sober and laughing at me while I tossed myself around, stumbling and laughing with reckless abandon. I even danced with Dean a little, who had shown up after dinner with his sister, Clara. Our dance turned into a line-dance with the entire group as "Cotton-Eyed Joe" came blaring through the speakers.

Once the dancing died down people began trickling out the door into the square. There were rumours of fireworks being arranged by Kirk. While I had a hard time trusting that anything involving fire and Kirk coud go well, I followed the crowd, clinging to James' arm for support as we stumbled across the grass.

Sure enough, there were fireworks. They exploded in the sky, loud and powerful in my ears, and lit the clouds with a rainbow of colours. Halfway throught he show, James' phone rang. Motioning to me, he wandered off to take the call, likely from work.

Lorelei came up and wrapped her arms around me, kissing the top of my head. In my tipsy state, a sense of serenity and peace envelopped me. I hugged my mother and watched the fireworks dance in her eyes which were so like my own. We smiled at each-other; no words were needed when it came to a moment between me and my mother. I was saying that I was so happy, and she was saying that she was so happy for me.

I must have been a cruel joke, though. The happiness. I didn't know why I thought it could have lasted so long.

James came rushing up to me, grabbing my arm and tugging me aside. The colour had drained from his face and he seemed to have very quickly sobered up. "What's the matter?" I asked, suddenly aware that something was very, very wrong. My heart was already sinking.

James' phone hung in his hand. He was trembling. "It's my mum," he said, his voice quivering as tears spilled onto his cheeks. "She's just died."

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

I was drunk with her. Literally and figuratively.

We stumbled into our dark apartment, all limbs and teeth and tongue, all colliding, endless. My hand flew out and smacked the wall, fingers reaching for the light switch. Nora kicked the door shut behind us, sending us into darkness save for the lights of the sleepless city filtering through the windows. She giggled and pulled me towards the couch, abandoning the light switch. Clearly, we weren't making it to the bed tonight.

My head span as she shoved me down onto the couch and quickly followed me, straddling my lap with her tanned, mile-long legs. She was panting into my mouth, her breath sweet with wine, and she tore my shirt up and over my head, running her palms over the plains of my chest, causing my skin to errupt with goosebumps as the draft from the rafters of our loft caressed my exposed flesh.

I slid my hands up her thighs and under her barely-there skirt, chuckling into her kiss as I discovered wonderfully that she was not wearing any underwear. As my fingers searched for her most intimate place, she bit down, hard, on my lower lip.

I gasped in pain as I tasted blood.

"Oh, shit," she exclaimed, reaching for the lamp on the end table. She snapped it on and I winced, feeling my pupils shrink painfully in the unexpected light.

I touched my lip; my fingers came away bloody. "Fucking vampire," I growled.

Her grin was sexy, dangerous. "I _vant_ to suck you..." She trailed off, winking at me.

I returned her devilish grin. "Just let me take care of this." I gestured to my mouth.

She rolled off me and stood, quickly shedding her jacket and her dress; soon she was standing, naked, before me. I watched her long body lasciviously as she she climbed the stairs to the loft, where our bed was waiting.

Once she was out of sight, I stepped into our tiny bathroom and inspected the damage. Just a tiny puncture where her inscisor had pierced my flesh. I couldn't help but grin as I rinsed the wound with water, turning the water in the sink copper. My girlfriend was nothing if not wild. Still, I couldn't help but notice the bags under my eyes as I inspected myself in the bathroom mirror. I had to admit, she was tuckering me out. Nora was seven years my junior, a vivacious twenty-two, and she drank and fucked to prove it. How I had landed such a creature was beyond me; who knew owning a growing chain of publishing houses would attract a vixen like Nora?

I must have underestimated her daringness, though, because something caught my eye. It was nestled on the shelf above the toilet; a pale yellow envelope, previously unopened, my name and address scrawled in neat handwriting on the front. And the return address—

I found Nora lying provocatively across our bed, naked, her dark cherry-red hair tumbling in thick waves over her shoulders. Her sexy smirk shifted to a look of confusion as I came up the stairs, the envelope in my hand. "I threw this away," I told her, showing her the envelope.

She pulled the sheets up the cover herself, realizing this wasn't a conversation to have whilst naked and horny. "I found it in the trash."

"Because I put it there," I snapped. "Why did you take it out?"

"I looked important," Nora said, raking a hand through her thick hair. "It's from Rory, isn't it?" Her voice was small.

I was suddenly furious. I clenched the envelope in my hand, crumpling it. "I'm throwing it away. This time, leave it there."

"Don't you want to know what it is?" Nora asked, climbing across the bed towards me. She slung a robe aroud her body and tied it closed around her narrow waist. Her hand reached out to gently grab my wrist.

I shook her off and turned away, tossing the envelope onto the dresser. I sat on the foot of the bed, placing my face in my hands. I was so tired, all of a sudden, and still pretty drunk.

Nora hugged me from behind, kissing my shoulder gently. We sat like that for a long moment, then Nora lay down next to me, her head resting on my thigh. "You should open it," she said quietly. "Otherwise it's going to drive you nuts."

"No point," I grunted. "I know what it is."

Nora rolled off the bed and went to the dresser, picking up the envelope. She turned to me and raised her eyebrows questioningly. I shrugged, pushing myself to the head of the bed and leaning back against the pillows. "Be my guest," I drawled, yawning.

Nora tore the envelope open and removed a thick piece of pale yellow paper. She read aloud, "'Miss Lorelei Gilmore and Mister Christopher Hayden cordially invite you to witness the marriage of their daughter, Lorelei "Rory" Gilmore, to James Paul Connolly, son of Vivian and Thomas Connolly, in the township of Stars Hollow, Connecticut, on this second of August, two-thousand and fourteen. We will begin the festivities on the twenty-sixth of July and carry on throughout the week leading up to the ceremony.'" Nora looked up at me, her face stricken. "Wow."

I shrugged.

"She's getting married," Nora said simply. "Did you know?"

"I did when I got that letter."

"But you didn't open it."

"Didn't need to."

"How did you know?"

"Just did. Why else would she send me a letter?"

Nora turned the invitation over and froze. "Uh, Jess?"

"What." I was getting irritated and sleepy. I could feel the hangover already. I kicked my jeans off and pulled on my pyjama pants, realizing that sex was definitely not in the cards tonight. I lay down on the bed, closing my eyes.

"You might want to read this." Nora sat next to me on the bed, holding the invitation out to me.

I glared at her with one eye. "You already did."

"There's something on the back," she said, "from Rory."

I sat up a little too quickly; my head span and I felt sick. Taking the invitation from Nora, I turned it over, subconsciously bracing myself. There, in Rory's own loopy handwriting, was a note:

_Jess, I don't really know why I sent you this and I don't expect you to come. I just wanted you to know, not because I want to make you feel bad, but because I want you to know what's happening in my life. I know it's been awhile, but it would mean a lot if you did show up. Bring a plus one, if you want to. I just miss you, I guess. I'm hoping this new chapter of my life can mean a new chapter for us, too. Anyway, come. Or don't. Just RSVP either way. Sincerely, Rory._

She had started to write _Love, Rory. _But had awkwardly tried to convert the _Lo _into _Si. _

The note was so incredibly _Rory _thatI felt my chest tighten with an emotion I didn't want to name at that moment. I looked at my watch, which displayed today's date. July twenty-sixth. Well, it would be the twenty-seventh in about ten minutes.

Nora was silent as I began packing my suitcase.


	2. Goodbye & Hello

A/N: Thanks to all those who followed/favourited/reviewed the first chapter! It really made me want to keep writing.

**Eight and a Half**

by Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Two – Goodbye & Hello_

**Rory**

It was amazing just how fast the whole town could switch gears. Within the span of an hour, the Dragonfly had been transformed from blissful party utopia to sombre mourning zone. The people who were present at the party all helped clean up and then, after offering their condolences to James and me, cleared out to let us grieve in peace.

After a trip to the bathroom during which I puked up everything that had been giving me strength up until this point, I flopped down onto the couch next to James in the living room, holding my water glass to my sweaty forehead, which was throbbing with a headache. Instinctively, I took his hand. He hadn't said much since he got that phone call from his brother in Ireland. His mother had apparently been alone in the house when she suffered a heart attack; she was already dead by the time his father came home.

I was completely and utterly spent. Kicking off my shoes, I curled up against James' torso, resting my head on his shoulder. "What now?" I whispered, my lips grazing his shirt collar, which now hung open, his tie askew.

He breathed a few times before replying, his gaze set firmly ahead of him. "I'm leaving in the morning," he said simply. When he finally looked at me, his eyes were swimming with tears again. "I'm so sorry."

I took his hand and gently kissed each of his fingertips. "I know, honey. We'll postpone. It will be okay."

"You've been working so hard," he said, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face. "You and your mum and everyone here. I feel terrible to just cancel it all."

"We aren't cancelling, we're rescheduling. Nobody could have seen this coming, James. It's not your fault." His chest shook beneath my cheek as he sobbed silently. I just held on tighter, not knowing what else I could do. My heart, my head, and my body all ached simultaneously. I had only ever met James' mother over Skype; we had been planning to visit his family in Ireland while honeymooning in Europe next month, since most of them weren't able to make the trek over to America. Still, a death in the family is always rough, and up until tonight I had been a week away from joining that family.

I helped James get to bed; we had decided to just stay at the inn so we could sleep in a real bed instead of an air mattress at Lorelei's house. After I'd tucked him in I went down to make sure everything was arranged with my mother.

I found her and Luke by the front desk, a sleeping Emerson tucked safely against Luke's chest. Luke swayed absently while he chatted with my mother, lulling the child into a deeper sleep. It made me sleepy just to watch him, and I suddenly had the overwhelming urge to pass out or cry or both.

"Aw, honey," Lorelei said when she saw me. She came to me, her arms open. I walked into her hug, feeling tears sting at the back of my eyes. I shut my eyes tight against them, however, as I squeezed my mother, the fimiliarity of her body reassuring me for the moment. As Lorelei pulled back, she kept me at arm's length, staring into my matching eyes. "Has everything been arranged?"

I nodded, wiping my damp eyes with the insides of my wrists. "We booked his plane ticket for tomorrow morning at seven. I'll drive him to the airport."

"And the wedding?"

I looked down at my hands, absently twisting my engagement ring around my finger. "I started making calls, but then it got late. I'll have to continute after I drop James off in the morning, when it's a more decent hour."

Lorelei leaned against the concierge desk. "What are you going to do?"

I shrugged; I hadn't really thought about it. "Stick around here for a few days, I guess, if that's okay. I'm booked off work for the next two weeks, but I guess I could go back early and save my vacation days."

"You're welcome to stay here, sweetheart. You know that." Lorelei kissed my forehead and took my elbows in her hands. "We're gonna get going. Are you going to be alright?"

I nodded. Kissing the three of them good-bye, I stood in the lobby until I saw the tailights of Mom's truck rounding the corner of the drive and disappearing.

Unsure of what to do with myself, I wandered around the inn, wondering how it was possible for me to be so hopelessly exhausted and restless at the same time. My body was trembling, probably a symptom of my hangover, and as nausea creeped up on me again I decided to at least try sleeping.

Slipping quietly into the room so as not to wake James, I crawled into bed next to him. Evidently, he was just as restless as I was, and before I had even properly settled under the sheets he was pressing his chest against my back, circling me with his arms and pulling me close. I squeezed his arms to my chest, feeling his breath hot on my ear. "I'm going to marry you," he whispered sleepily. "I promise."

"I know," I replied softly.

Moments later his breaths slowed to a steady rhythm, and I simultaneously dropped off into the blank, endless void of restless sleep.

* * *

><p>"That was the last one," I called out to Lorelai, who was in Emerson's room down the hall. I tossed the phone down onto my mother's bed and sank into the cushions, the weight of the day finally settling on my shoulders, making me exhausted. I had spent the past two hours calling all the wedding guests who hadn't already arrived to let them know we were postponing the wedding. I also had to phone the caterers and the florists and the photographer, and earlier in the day I had helped my mom and Luke to store all the decorations and wedding favours in the shed for safekeeping. And then, of course, to kick off the day bright and early in the morning, I had said good-bye to my fiancé and watched him board a plane to Ireland using his one-way ticket.<p>

The whole future we had planned for ourselves that had been at our fingertips suddenly seemed very far away.

Lorelei entered her room, a squirmy Emerson on her hip, and offered me a sad smile. "Oh, sweetie. You look exhausted."

I looked up from my spot on the bed, surrounded by papers and receipts and address books. "I am," I replied lightly, massaging the spot in between my eyebrows, which was throbbing from frowning all day.

Lorelei sat on the edge of the bed, cradling Emerson to her. "Maybe you should have a nap?"

I shook my head. "I won't sleep. Maybe I'll go to Luke's and get some coffee."

"Would you mind bringing me back some?" Lorelei asked. "I've been trying to get this one down for a nap for over an hour. When you get back, it's you, me, coffee, and _Casablanca. _Sound good?"

I smiled and kissed her cheek. "Sounds great, Mom."

I took my time walking to Luke's grateful for the fresh air and space to think. For the past twenty-four hours I had been constantly surrounded by people; first at the opening ceremony party and then today accepting condolences and having every single person in the town ask me if I was alright about a dozen times each. I knew all their hearts were in the right place but I felt like I was suffocating a little. Stars Hollow had that tendency.

Luke's came into view too quickly; I decided to take a detour through the park. Strolling along the dirt path, the birds screeching in the trees overhead as if they had not a care in the world. I realized that I was absently twirling my engagement ring around my finger again and stopped for a moment to look at it. It was physically impossible since I cleaned it once every few days, but it seemed to have dimmed somewhat since last night, as if it sensed that it was going to remain alone on that finger for a bit longer than expected. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my shorts, I pressed on, eager to get to the pond and sit on the bridge and think. Or rather, not think, preferably.

As I approached the pond and set foot on the bridge for the first time in god knew how long, eager to get to the halfway point and just _sit down, _I realized with an ample amount of dismay that my spot was already taken. I was annoyed for a split second before I focused entirely on the person who was sitting in the middle of the bridge, his legs hanging over the side, bare feet skimming the surface of the pond, and my heart lept into my throat so fast that I gasped.

He looked up from the book he was reading, a blazen scowl on his face, until his dark eyes found mine.

I froze, staring. "_Jess?_"

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

She hadn't changed a bit.

I had heard her exclaim my name in such a fashion so many times before that for a moment, when my eyes first landed on her, I thought I had somehow travelled through time to a moment deep in my past where I would have just offered her my crooked smirk in response to such a reaction.

This was the present, though, and as such I did not give her my crooked smirk. To be perfectly honest, I just kind of froze, sitting there like an idiot, my feet submerging in the lukewarm water of the pond. It was all I could do to not drop my book into said water, and I suddenly found I was clutching it so tight my knuckles were paling.

I thought I had prepared myself for this moment. I just hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

_Speak, moron. _"Hey." Lame.

To her credit, she just kinda stood there like an idiot, too, her hands meshed together, and I wondered if she was subconsciously hiding her engagement ring from me.

When she didn't respond, I pressed on, clearing my throat. "I guess congratulations are in order."

"Stand up," she said, her voice low.

I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

"Stand up," she repeated, taking a step towards me.

Unsure what else to do, I did as she asked, stuffing my book into my back pocket as I did so. We stood facing each-other for a moment, an unusual hush settling over the pond.

Then, Rory snapped to life. In five long strides she was upon me, and, getting the strange sense that I was somehow coming home, I crushed her to me.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I could feel Jess trying to withdraw from the hug, but I didn't dare let go. Seeing him had been the last straw to my inevitable unravelling; I simply dissolved in his arms, and to my utter mortification I realized I was completely soaking his shirt with my tears.

"Hey, hey." His voice was a familiar low rumble, pressed hot against my ear. "What's up?"

Gently, he held my face between his hands and forced us apart, keeping me close enough to stare into my eyes. My vision was too blurry with tears to get a good look at him, but I felt the rough pads of his thumbs brushing my tears away.

Suddenly spooked, I backed out of his grip, wiping my eyes with my wrists. "What are you even doing here?" I demanded. In an attempt to pull myself together, I folded my arms over my body.

He spread his hands, squaring his shoulders. "I believe I was invited," he said, looking at me pointedly, one eyebrow raised.

It took me a moment to process what he meant. "You got the invitation?"

"Well, when you put something in the mail to send to someone, it generally ends up in that person's hands." His tone was acidic, but he was rubbing the back of his head with his hand, which meant he was nervous. It was such a _Jess _moment that I had to remind myself to breathe.

I exhaled, long and slow, and then bit my lip. "You didn't RSVP."

He shrugged with one shoulder. "I wasn't sure if I was going to come."

"I didn't think you would come," I said, my voice small.

He shrugged and spread his hands again by way of explanation.

For some reason, I found myself reluctant to tell him about the postponed wedding. It meant that he might leave. Still, I couldn't stand it if he heard it from someone else first, and then just took off without saying good-bye again. I had to count to three before I could blurt it out. "Jess, there's no wedding."

His eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

Blinking up at the sky to prevent more tears from falling, I shrugged. "It's been postponed...indefinitely." I hadn't yet used the word _indefinitely. _It turned my stomach into a twist of knots.

Jess took a step towards me, and then thought better of it, opting instead to lace his hands behind his head and stride away from me. Turning back, lowering his hands, he snapped, "What happened?"

"James' mother died," I replied quietly. "Yesterday." I checked my watch. "He's probably landing in Dublin right about now."

"Dublin?"

"He's from Ireland. His family is all there."

Jess nodded. I could see him processing all this as he rubbed a hand over the stubble peppering his jaw. He held out that hand towards me as he spoke. "Listen, shit. I'm sorry to hear that." He sounded sincere.

"I never met her," I said, "but it's still sad."

"'Course."

I studied Jess for a moment. He looked...older. Granted, he was eight and half years older than he was when I last saw him. But he seemed grown-up, more mature. His dark hair was shorter than it had been last time I'd seen him; curls cropped closer to his head on the sides, but messy on the top as I remembered it. His boyish mouth was disguised by the stubble on his jaw. He was shifty-eyed and fidgety as usual, his eyes never really staying focused on one thing for too long, his feet constantly shuffling his own weight, but he was generally carrying himself differently, his shoulders weighted with a confidence I hadn't seen him possess before. He had filled out a little bit but was still relatively small in stature, his muscles taut and lean under his form-fitting white t-shirt. His jeans were rolled up to his knees so as not get them wet in the pond, and I couldn't help but notice he was wearing pants a little tighter these days.

Being Jess, he caught me looking. "It's been awhile," he said, a hint of his signature crooked smile playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" He held his arms out and did a cheeky little spin for me.

He had a pencil behind his ear, a book in his back pocket. It was like being transported back in time. My knees felt suddenly weak.

"I'm sorry you came all the way out here," I managed to choke out.

He paused, gazing at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Why?"

I shrugged, tightening my arms around myself. "Well, there's no wedding so you drove all the way here for no reason. I'm sorry."

He smirked, jerking one shoulder up. "Don't be. 'S not your fault. Shit happens." He took a step towards me, leaving about a foot's distance between us. "How are you holding up?" he asked softly, reaching out to briefly touch my elbows.

As per usual with us, I merely shrugged in response.

Jess then said the most wonderful thing he could have said in that moment. "Hey, do you wanna go get some coffee?"


	3. Fender-benders & Coffee Travellers

A/N: Sooooo just realized I've been spelling Lorelai wrong this whole time (I previously was spelling it Lorelei)...shame on me. Surprised none of you caught that! hehehe...

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Three – Hello & Goodbye_

**Jess**

Just like Rory, Stars Hollow hadn't changed at all. It still possessed the level of mundaneness that made me want to blow my brains out and the sense of peacefulness which ultimately stopped me from doing just that. I would never admit it to anyone, but despite the fact that Stars Hollow had served as my own personal prison while I was stuck here as an angry seventeen-year-old, it was still nice to come back once and a while and feel nostalgic. Of course, my good memories here mostly existed because of Rory, but then again, the bad memories involved her, too.

And there we were again, walking side by side through the town square, like old times. Except everything between us was now relatively new. After all, what do you say to a woman you used to be madly in love with but who is now engaged to a man who just lost his mother? It was a recipe for awkward, and for Rory and me, it was our speciality dish.

At the back of my mind was an annoying nagging sensation; a little voice kept telling me to get out of there. Take off, go home. There was no point in me being there anymore, after all. There was no wedding this weekend, and subsequently no events during the week. For all I knew, Rory would be leaving soon, too, and then there _really _wouldn't be any reason for me to stay. Not that she was a reason to begin with, but she was the reason I was there. She'd wanted me to come, so I did. I mean, she had invited me, right? That must have meant she wanted me there on some level. I doubted it was to rub my face in her marriage to another man—Rory wasn't that kind of person. Was it a pity invite? Was it just her way of letting me know? Had it been her idea? Did her fiancé know I had been invited? Did he know about mine and Rory's history at all?

Well that's what it was, Rory and I. History. An epic which for all intents and purposes ended eight and a half years ago at the first Truncheon branch in Philly. I had honestly been coming to terms with the fact that I likely would never see her again. But, as fate would have it...there we were.

And yeah, people noticed.

"My eyes must be deceiving me!" Miss Patty shrieked as we passed her studio, our attempt to sneak by unnoticed futile. She careened down the steps and took my face between her hands, pinching my cheeks. "Jess Mariano! Don't you look so handsome and grown-up!"

"Hey, Miss Patty," I grunted, rubbing my cheek as she finally stepped away from me.

She clapped her hands together and looked at Rory and me adoringly. "Aren't you two precious. I feel as if I've stepped through a time machine! Oh, but of course, times have changed," she added, suddenly remembering what year we were in fact in. "What are you doing in town Jess? You're not here for the wedding are you?" Her eyes widened, seeing the look on Rory's face. "Sorry, dear."

"It's alright Miss Patty," Rory said, smiling slightly. "Jess is here for the wedding. He unfortunately didn't get the memo before arriving."

"Isn't it terrible?" Miss Patty asked sympathetically. "Rory, you are so strong. But it's nice you have friends around to...lean on," she added, looking at me pointedly.

"Thanks, Patty, we have to go; bye," Rory said quickly, grabbing my arm and hauling me away.

"That was kinda rude," I said, nearly tripping as Rory dragged me along. I wrenched my arm out of her grip but she kept moving.

"I just want people to stop looking at me like that," she snapped.

"Whoa, slow down," I said, grabbing her gently by the shoulders and turned her to face me. "How are people looking at you?"

"Like I'm delicate or pitiful!" Rory folded her arms across her chest, pouting. "Yes, what happened sucks. I was supposed to be getting married on Saturday. Now it's called off indefinitely and James is gone and I don't know what to do now and you're here—"

I held up a hand to silence her. "Whoa. Hang on. Called off? You said it was postponed."

"Called-off, postponed—does it matter? It's not happening. Not this Saturday, probably not this summer! And if not this summer, then probably not this year!"

"There's a difference between called-off and postponed, Rory," I mumbled, trying to meet her gaze. She was purposefully avoiding looking me in the eye. "And as far as me being here goes, I don't have to remind you that you invited me here. I'm here because you wanted me to be. Why else would you send me that invitation?"

"I don't want to talk about this," she sniffed, turning towards Luke's again.

"Rory—"

"Please, Jess!" she cried. "Why can't you be monosyllabic when I need you to be?"

My blood boiled. "Hey!" I yelled after her with such force that she stopped and turned towards me. I slowly closed the gap between us as I spoke. "You asked me to be here—here I am. I drove all the way to Stars freaking Hollow to be here for _your wedding, _which in and of itself is not easy for me! It was selfish of you to even invite me, but I came. And now you're yelling at me because I'm trying to help you? How is that fair?"

Her lower lip trembled. "Jess..."

"Forget it," I snapped, turning away.

"Jess, wait!"

Rolling my eyes, I stopped. "What?"

Rory came round to stand in front of me, the shame playing clearly across her face. "I'm sorry."

"I'm getting tired of you using me for any sort of validation, Rory," I said.

She was silent for a moment, and I knew she was thinking about Philly. Finally, she met my eyes, and they were clear. "Can we still get coffee? Please?"

I looked at her for a long moment. I was so mad at her, but I was more mad at the fact that she still had this effect on me; that she could be as selfish and unfair as she wanted, and I would still be there for her in the end. If there was any part of me that I wished had remained the same since I was seventeen, it was my ability to walk away from her when things got rough. Since I had grown up a bit, I found myself feeling like I owed it to her to be there for her now, to make up for the times I had walked away, when in reality that was the best thing I could have done as far as she was concerned. I had tried not to keep score of who had hurt who more, but it was hard to ignore the odds when they were staring you in the face.

Finally, I spoke. "Why did you invite me, Rory? Why would you do that to me?"

Hurt flashed across her face and I saw her madly try and blink tears away. She shook her head and looked at her feet, hugging herself tightly across her chest.

I nodded, stepping away from her. "It was a mistake to come here," I said. I took my keys out of my pocket and crossed the street to my car, hurriedly unlocking the door and sliding into the driver's seat. My duffel bag was still in the backseat where I had left it; I silently thanked my past self for leaving it there and not going to Luke's right away. This would be so much harder if Luke had known I was in town.

I threw my hand over the passenger seat and looked over my shoulder as I backed the car up. Rory had vanished from where we were standing. Repressing the urge to look for her, I yanked my car into drive and, without looking, peeled out of the parking spot.

Tires squealed somewhere by my left ear and I didn't even have time to shout before the other car hit mine.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I heard the crash first. It didn't sound too serious—a fender bender at most, but as I turned and saw that it was Jess' car panic flared up and seized my heart so fast it left me breathless. I tore across the square towards them.

They were getting out of their cars. Jackson was already laying into Jess as I ran up, straight to Jess' side, though he made a point of pretending I wasn't there.

"Did you even look at all?" Jackson cried, waving his arms madly in the direction of the two cars. Jess' car clearly suffered the most damage; the front left corner of the hood and bumper was shoved in and the tire had blown. "Everyone knows you have to do a three-sixty check before you move your car!"

Jess was surprisingly calm as he took the pencil from behind his ear and the book from his back pocket. "Just have your people call my people," he said, writing his number on one of the blank pages at the back of the book and ripping it out to give to Jackson.

Jackson took the paper, looking a little flabergasted. "I don't need to talk to your _people,_" he said.

"Figure of speech, Jackson," Jess replied, the familiar sarcastic edge creeping into his tone. "Call Gypsy, would you? I don't have her number."

As Jackson went off to phone Gypsy, Jess crouched down by his car to check the damage. "Are you okay?" I asked stupidly.

"Fine," he replied flatly.

I crouched down next to him, pretending like I knew what I was looking for in terms of car damages. "Looks bad."

"'S not. Gypsy should be able to take care of it in no time." He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans, and sat on the driver's seat. He reached into the back and emerged with his shoes, a pair of low-top Chuck Taylor's. The hair around his temples was curling in the heat.

I stood in front of him awkwardly as he laced his shoes. "So..." I started, fiddling with a thread on the hem of my tank top. "Does no time really mean no time, or do you have a little bit of time now?"

He didn't look at me. "What?"

"You said Gypsy should be able to fix it in no time but it has to be towed to her shop and then she has to fix it. So, will it really be no time or do you in fact have a bit of time now to, say, grab some coffee at Luke's?" As I finally took a breath, I noticed with no small amount of satisfaction that Jess was hiding a smirk from me. He ducked his head into the backseat and pretended to rummage around for something, and I definitely didn't not notice the curve of his back, shoulder and neck as he did so.

When he emerged, his face bore the very passive expression that was the epitome of Jess. "Fine," he said. He grabbed his wallet from the glove compartment and stood, waving to a flustered-looking Jackson as we headed towards Luke's.

I thought Luke was going to have a heart attack when we walked into the diner together. He eyes went round as plates and he dropped the cloth he was holding. "What the hell are you doing here?" he bellowed.

"Hello to you, too, Uncle Luke," Jess replied facetiously.

Luke came around the counter to shake Jess' hand and ended up just pulling him in for a hug. "It's good to see you!" Luke said as he pulled away, gesturing to Jess with his hands. "It's been ages. But I repeat, what the hell are you doing here?"

Jess chuckled, shoving his hands in his pockets. "A certain someone was getting married," he replied.

Luke seemed to suddenly notice that I was standing there. "Oh! I, uh, didn't realize you had been invited." Luke was giving me a strange look that made me look away, uncomfortable.

Jess' eyes slid towards me briefly and I felt rather than saw the wounded look there. In the end, he just shrugged. "This one's full of surprises," he replied, elbowing my arm lightly. "We just came for some coffee."

We sat at the counter and Luke went to pour us some coffee. "Still not looking properly before you pull out, huh, Jess?" he asked nonchalantly.

Jess nearly choked on his coffee. "Excuse me?"

Luke gestured out the window with the coffee pot. "Witnessed your little accident out there."

Jess' eyebrows knit together as pure confusion crossed his face. "You just acted like you didn't know I was here," he said.

"I didn't," Luke replied. "I thought I saw you get out of the car but I thought nah, that can't really be Jess, but now here you are, and I was right. Still a surprise." Jess rolled his eyes, Luke ignored it. "So, what's new with you, Jess? Still in New York?"

"Yeah," Jess replied, casually stretching his arm over the back of my seat. "We opened a Truncheon branch there a few months ago so I'm trying to get it all set up."

"How's that going?"

"Ah, you know. It's slow. It's only our second location so it's been a bit thorny, but it should smooth out once we finish transferring clients and getting the presses running more frequently."

At that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket, announcing that my mother was trying to get a hold of me. I heeded to Luke's scornful glare and slid out of my seat, the bell over the door tinkling as I went outside. Pressing accept, I held the phone to my ear. Before I could say anything, Lorelai's voice came screeching out of the receiver.

"Daughter of mine! Where the heck are you? Did you fall into Luke's coffee pot? I hear people do that sometimes, but I would have thought the fruit of my loins would be clever enough to avoid such a mishap."

"Sorry, Mom," I said, cringing at the reference to my mother's loins.

"Rory, you left the house over an hour ago. Is everything okay?"

I could feel Jess' eyes burning holes into my back and wondered if maybe he could see right through me. "Sorry Mom," I said again, "I got distracted."

"Did Luke make you pancakes again? Because I have a whole coffee table full of junk food here waiting to be eaten and all my effort will be for naught if your stomach is full!"

"No, Mom, it's not Luke."

It must have been in my tone of voice because Lorelai suddenly became serious. "What is it?"

I sighed, biting my lip. She was bound to find out eventually, especially since Luke had seen him now. "I just went for a walk and ended up...bumping into...Jess."

I could hear Lorelai sputtered on whatever she had been drinking at the time. "Oh," was all she managed to get out.

"And he got in a fender-bender with Jackson and so I'm just waiting with him while Gypsy looks over Jess' car," I rushed before she could say anything else.

"Sheesh, the kid is here for ten minutes and he's already causing a rukus," Lorelai muttered. "Guess he didn't get the memo about the wedding, huh?"

I heard the subtle accusation in her voice but chose to ignore it, not wanting to get into a debate with her at the moment. "Yeah well I didn't know he was coming so I didn't bother."

"Is he staying?"

I turned and looked through the window. Jess had his back to me and appeared to be chatting with Luke. "I don't know."

Lorelai sighed. "When do you think you'll be home?"

"Soon," I replied, "I promise."

After getting off the phone with my mother I went to head back into the diner, but Jess was already on his way out. "Gypsy's done," he offered, holding up his cell phone as explanation.

We stood there awkwardly, facing each-other. He nodded towards my own phone, which I still held in my hand. "Mom wondering where you are?" he guessed, his chin tilted downwards, peering up at me from underneath his long, dark eyelashes.

I nodded. "I have to bring back coffee _and _doughnuts to make up for my longer-than-anticipated outing," I explained. "We're having a junk-food _Casablanca _night."

"Ah," he breathed, a smirk playing over one side of his mouth. He pulled his bottom lip underneath his teeth as if to stifle it.

Jerking my gaze away from his mouth, I shuffled my feet. "Yeah."

His gaze was steady on me, even though I wasn't looking at him. "So did you tell anybody that you invited me, or was Luke the only one kept in the dark?"

"Jess, I..." I floundered with my hands, as if reaching for the words which escaped me. "I didn't think you would come."

His eyes bore into mine as he sucked in a breath. "Yeah, you said that," he murmured. He srubbed a hand over his chin before looking off in the general direction of Gypsy's shop. "Should get going."

"Want me to come with you?" It was a long shot, but I figured I would try anyway.

Amusement flashed briefly in his chocolate eyes before they reverted back to their usual granite boredom. "I think I can handle it," he said, his voice low.

I gnawed on my lip, searching my brain for something I could say, anything, that would make him stay. But I could see it written on his face and in his twitching hands that he was dying to bail as soon as humanly possible. I was just in his way, and though my presence might delay his departure somewhat, I had never been a reason for him to stay before, and that was back when we actually meant something to each-other. Not that we didn't _mean anything _to each-other anymore, but now he didn't _have_ to stay even if he _wanted_ to. "Okay," I said. Stupid.

He scratched behind his ear, dislodging the pencil that was still there and catching it before it could fall to the ground. "You can, uh..." he jutted his chin towards my phone again, "call me, or something. If you need to...or whatever."

A smile threatened at the corner of my mouth. "I don't have..."

He took my phone and wordlessly punched his number in. "Facebook?" he asked casually as he did so.

"Sometimes."

"Add me."

"Okay."

"Not that I'm on it much."

"I figured you wouldn't be."

He handed me back my phone. "See ya," he said, turning away.

I called after him, "Don't you want my number?"

He turned towards me but kept walking, backwards. "I'll save it when you call me," he called back, smirking with his whole lopsided mouth this time.

I strode towards him, and he slowed to let me catch up. "No," I said firmly, grabbing his upper arms with my hands.

He looked down at me, an amused gleam in his eyes. "What?" he chuckled.

"No, you don't just get to walk away without properly saying good-bye," I snapped. "Give me a freaking hug."

He laughed and wrapped me into his arms, resting his chin on top of my head. I could hear his heart beating beneath where my ear was pressed into his neck, and as I circled my arms around his waist, I briefly felt the taut muscle of his abdomen beneath his thin shirt. He shifted and I could have sworn I felt his lips press ever-so-chastely on the top of my head.

Pulling away, he held onto my hand for half a second, looking into my eyes before he let it drop.

"I'm sorry for being a jerk earlier," I said quietly.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, rocking back on his heels. "You weren't being a jerk," he said.

I kind of smiled and nodded, and he just chuckled in response. "See ya, Rory," he said again, and then he walked away without looking back.

* * *

><p>Lorelai practically pounced on me as I arrived back some some fifteen minutes later, bearing a traveller full of coffee and a take-out bag full of doughnuts and other goodies I had sweet-talked out of Luke. She took everything from me and set them down on the coffee table amongst the mountains of popcorn, chips, Redvines and other favourite junk food snacks, then pulled me down on the couch with her. I grabbed a handful of popcorn as fuel to get me through the inescapable impending grilling.<p>

"_So_?" she prompted, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement. "What's the story with Mister Stalone?"

I rolled my eyes, thinking that the comparison of Jess to Rocky Balboa was nothing short of ridiculous. "We didn't really get to talk that much."

"You were gone for nearly two hours! If you weren't talking what were you doing that whole time? Or, on second thought—" Her face twisted into a grimace. "Do I _want _to know?"

My mouth dropped open, horrified. "Mom! No!" I smacked her on the arm. "I told him about the wedding and James' mom and then Miss Patty wanted to talk to him and then he got in the accident and then Luke wanted to talk to him and then you called me and then Jess had to go get his car from Gypsy's. I didn't even get a chance to really ask him anything, it all just happened so fast, and he kept asking all these questions about the wedding and why I invited him and—" I stopped to catch my breath. "He's probably gone now. And we barely had the chance to catch up. First time seeing him in eight and a half years and I don't even know what he's _doing._" I pulled my knees to my chest and buried my face in them, feeling the blush spread across my cheeks.

Lorelai rubbed my back soothingly. "Hey, Jess is like that song about the cat who keeps coming back. I'm sure you'll see him again. And besides, it may even be for the best. Things are pretty complicated for you right now with James. Maybe the less Jess in your life, the better." Her tone shifted, the amusement returning. "How did he look?"

"Look?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.

"Yeah, you know, is he taller? Did he finally get his hair cut? Did he fill out at all?"

I grimaced at my mother's choice of words. "Yeah, he looked...good," I said, nodding absently. "He looked really good."

"Saying he looked really good did not answer any of my questions," Lorelai teased.

"Can we just watched the movie?"

Lorelai patted my head reassuringly before clicking the remote towards the TV.

* * *

><p>AN: Regarding the Rocky reference, anybody catch what I did there? Ehh? ;P

Please review! Reviews are to my writing what Jess is to Rory. _Essential!_


	4. Turning Tables & The Silver Lining

A/N: I asked and you delivered! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! It really motivated me to keep going. Warning you now, though, this chapter is wordy—prepare for a buttload of exposition!

**Eight and a Half**

by Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Four – Turning Tables & A Silver Lining_

**Jess**

As soon as Rory left the diner, Luke was on me like flies on a turd. "So, is it weird?"

I pretended to be reading my book, feigning ignorance. "'S what weird?"

"You and Rory seeing each-other again like this?" Luke absently wiped the counter in front of me, though it was clearly spotless. His eyes kept darting from me to Rory, who stood just on the other side of the glass window, her phone pressed to her ear. "You know, especially under the circumstances..."

"Don't know what you're talking about." I made a note in the margin of my book: _I wanted to tell you but each time I'd find / The words would get stuck in the tar of my mind—_

Luke stopped the wiping, jabbing his hand in my direction in his usual aggravating fashion. "Don't play dumb. I just don't want to see you getting hurt. Or Rory, for that matter. Did she really invite you?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the carefully folded invitation, tossing it onto the counter in front of him, all without taking my eyes off my book. _As I struggle here in the black of this pitch / Your laugh tugs at my ear like a never-ending itch—_

Luke folded the paper open and scanned it, then turned it over to read Rory's handwritten segment. "Wow."

"That's what she said."

Luke's eyes bugged. "Excuse me?"

"My girlfriend," I said, raising an eyebrow at Luke. "She said the same thing when she read it. What did you think I meant?" I smirked as Luke fumbled for words, leaning across the counter towards me.

"Girlfriend?" Clearly, he missed the point.

I mocked offense, sitting back in my seat, a hand on my chest. "Jeez, Uncle Luke, don't act so shocked."

He ignored my sarcasm. "Well sorry, it's just a little unexpected. You with a girlfriend, huh? How long has that been going on?"

I took a sip of my coffee, peering over the rim so as to catch his reaction as I mumbled, "Five years."

If Luke had been the one drinking coffee, I swear he'd have spat it all over the counter, and subsequently, me. "Five _years_?"

I flashed him my most charming grin and raised my eyebrows in mock delight. "And the punches keep a-comin'."

"_One_ girl—for _five years_?" Luke shook his head disbelievingly. "I gotta meet this woman, find out what the hell she's done with my nephew. Hey—how come this is the first time I've heard of this? Five years you've been seeing this girl and you never once mentioned her, never brought her round for Thanksgiving, nothing!"

"I don't bring myself around for Thanksgiving, you think I'm gonna send Nora on her own?" I went back to my book, swiftly getting bored of this conversation.

"Nora, huh?" Luke narrowed his eyes at me, a sly grin playing on his unshaven lips. "Well, guess I don't need to worry about Rory then. Speaking of which...does she know?"

"Does who know what?"

"Rory! Does she know you've got a girlfriend?"

I looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think for a moment. Shaking my head, I looked at Luke and shrugged. " You know what, I don't know that she does."

"You don't think you should _mention _that particular piece of information?"

I fixed Luke with one of my rare, piercing stares. "I don't know. Maybe I should just wait and invite her to my _wedding._"

Luke looked like he desperately wanted to smack me. "You're a wise-ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, me and my wise ass are leaving now."

"Good, get out of here."

As I shoved my way out of the diner, I couldn't ignore the little voice at the back of my head that wondered if Luke maybe hadn't just been playing around. I wished I could bury the little stabbing of hurt that unexpectedly shot through me as I replayed his voice telling me to get out over and over in my head. _You tell me to go, I'll go / But just so you know if I don't want to go / There's no force in this universe that can make it so._

After I left Rory outside the diner, I really just focused on getting her smell off of me; she smelled like lavender, which should be illegal because it's scientifically proven that the smell of lavender turns guys on (the stuff you read while waiting for the dentist). Figuring the fastest way to do that was by burning tobacco, I lit a cigarette, taking drags so long that I was finished it by the time I got to Gypsy's. It was just as well; the place reeked of gasoline and I was so wired after the coffee and my conversation with Luke that I didn't trust my shaking hands to hold the cigarette securely.

Evidently, Gypsy needed another hour or two to work on my car. I knew this. When I had bumped into Rory, still spooked by Luke's words, I'd thought of the first excuse to get away from her quickly, and lied. It was easy to lie to Rory, I realized with an annoying sense of guilt.

I decided to kill time back on the bridge, deciding it was unlikely that Rory would find me again since she was back with Lorelai. I took off my shoes again and let my feet sink into the water, watching the minnows nip gently at my toes. A warm breeze caressed my hair, a wayward curl tickling my temple. I shivered involuntarily as the breeze cooled my previously sweat-sticky back. I had been planning to read, but I let my mind wander instead, too distracted in the heat. I leaned back on my hands to check out the spotless blue sky looming over Stars Hollow.

_Give me a freaking hug._

The press of her body against mine, the curve of her back under my hands, her hair tickling the stubble on my chin, her breath hot on my neck, the sun beating on my back as I sweat in her arms. _You've never been a summer girl / But in the summer the heat makes my mind unfurl. _I'd forgotten about the sense of comfort Rory brought me. It was more than attraction or built-up sexual energy; that I had known before, but it had always been more than that with her. I had truly cared about her, which was more than I could say for anything else in my then seventeen years of life, and that had scared me shitless.

Had I really given her my number? Did I really want Rory randomly calling me up from now on, after eight and a half years of silence? I couldn't deny that I sometimes missed talking to her—that I would hear a song by The Clash on the radio or catch a glimpse of someone reading Hemingway on the subway and get the incredible urge to even text her and let her know I was thinking of her. But I also realized that completely cutting contact was the only way I would ever get over Rory Gilmore. It was what led me to New York, what led me to Nora, what led me to life outside a pining, directionless shell. I couldn't go back to that—_cage _of a person that I was twelve or thirteen years ago, the one from which I had just been emerging before Rory showed up at the Philadelphia Truncheon and pushed _restart._ I had come too far to go back now, and Rory was just as unavailable as she had been before, and, this time, so was I. I was twenty-nine, one of the youngest publishers in the country, and I was dating the most exotic and exciting girl I'd ever met.

I was about to call Nora to let her know I was coming home early, but decided against it in favour of surprising her. As I put my phone away, I noticed the time and jumped up. It was time to leave Stars Hollow.

* * *

><p>As I fumbled for my keys in my pocket, I noticed with a smirk that Nora was blasting music inside out apartment (IT'S YOUR HEART, IT'S ALIVE, IT'S PUMPING BLOOD). Knowing there was no way she would hear me come in, I took advantage of the additional element of surprise.<p>

Our apartment was, for all intents and purposes, perfect for us; small but trendy and _oh so Brooklyn_. Once inside the space is open, with the living area basically at your feet, the staircase leading to the loft (and the bedroom) just to the right of the front door. Underneath the loft was the kitchen, kind of tucked into the corner under the overhang, and in the far corner of the space was the bathroom. The only wall that wasn't exposed brick was the wall of only windows opposite the front door, which now showed the lights of Manhattan, twinkling against the inky backdrop of the sky, on the other side of the Booklyn Bridge. Nora, who was a fashion blogger by night and an interior designer by day, had loaded the space with simple but chic furnishings, with the perfect balance of femininity and masculinity.

The designer in question was currently in the kitchen, dancing like a fool and singing at the top of her lungs. Her blood-red hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and she wore sweatpants low on her hips and a sinfully revealing tank top. Her dark, horn-rimmed glasses were perched on the bride of her little nose. I had never seen her look sexier.

Setting down my things, I snuck around the furniture, careful not to let her see me (AND THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD IS WHISTLIN'). Coming up behind her, she screamed bloody murder in surprise as I grabbed her around the waist and lifted, twirling her around in a reverse bear hug. Her scream quickly pealed into laughter when she turned her head and saw me. "_Jess!_" she squealed. "Oh my god Jess put me _down!_"

I obeyed, setting her down in front of me and turning her around to face me. She crushed her lips to mine, though we were both smiling too much to kiss properly. "What are you doing here?" Nora demanded delightedly. "I thought you were away till Sunday?"

"Wedding got postponed," I murmured against her throat as I nipped the tanned skin there.

She pulled back to look at me. "What?"

"Her fiancé's mom died and he had to fly to Ireland, so they postponed the wedding," I explained, leaning down again to kiss along Nora's jawline.

"Jesus," she whispered, but thankfully dropped the subject after that. Plunging her fingers into my hair, she pulled my mouth back to hers, allowing our tongues to tangle heatedly. I walked her back towards the couch, knowing full well we definitely were not making it to the bedroom this time.

Some time later, as I held a naked and sleepy Nora against my chest on the couch, I felt a soothing sense of peace envelop me. I remembered the day I met Nora, five years ago at Truncheon in Philadelphia. I had been setting up the stage for the night's poetry reading and she had shown up early, the first to arrive. My jaw had hit the floor when she walked in. Her hair had been jet black then, falling in choppy pieces around her heart-shaped face. Her dark olive skin had glowed in the dim stage lights, and when she had smiled, her teeth were a brilliant white in comparison. She had huge, exotic eyes which were a molten green colour, rimmed with kohl, and both her arms were a complete sleeve of beautiful, intricate tattoos. Long feather earrings had dangled from her earlobes, and her wrists had clanged with dozens of gold bangles. She was the hippest, most outrageously beautiful woman I had ever seen. And for some fucking reason, she had chosen me.

It had been almost instantaneous. She had sat with me during the poetry reading, flirted with me all night, a gesture which I had shamelessly returned. We had exchanged numbers and, just like that, we had embarked on the craziest, most passionate affair of my life. Two months later I got the call to go ahead and open Truncheon in Manhattan and a month after that we were unpacking our shit in our current apartment in Brooklyn.

It was only then, after three months of being simply intoxicated with Nora, that she had finally dropped the bomb that she was only seventeen. I had been twenty-four at the time; naturally I was horrified and I had very nearly sent her home to her parents, from whom she confessed she had run away. But one long night looking out our windows at Manhattan's lights while Nora sobbed and told me her real life's story made me change my mind.

I had been in a terrible funk until I met Nora; she had been a tornado of life and had breathed energy back into me, despite all the awful shit she had gone through. By seventeen she had practically been a live-in babysitter for her own parents, who drank and partied and cashed wellfare and EI checks (repeat). I had figured that hey, if she can handle that shit and still come out with drive and a smile on her face, I can damn well get over Rory Gilmore breaking my heart, and I told her so—which then led to me crying and spilling my guts to her about Rory and everything I'd gone through with her.

The truth was, I was in love with Nora Rose.

Yes, she was challenging—the age difference between us often was cause for rifts and fights and mishandlings of situations, especially at the start when she was still so young. For awhile, I'd felt like her parent, and we had resented each-other for it. She had been wild, out-of-control—I couldn't count on three hands the number of times I had had to go find her in some club, and I still had the scars to prove the number of times I'd had to literally beat guys off of her. Those nights were the worst—long, sleepless nights that I spent with her in our bathroom, her curled in front of the toilet or huddled in the shower, screaming as I blasted cold water on her.

But as she got older and quickly caught up to me in terms of maturity, we ended up balancing each-other out. She settled down, started her fashion blog, which took off shortly after that and she experienced a brief stint of internet fame; I opened up, started writing again, and created a network of authors, poets and publishers all over the city. She took design classes at the Brooklyn College while I managed the Philly Truncheon branch from home (the New York branch had ended up taking way more time than anticipated).

Now, we co-managed the Manhattan Truncheon, with me handling the business side of things upstairs and Nora organizing poetry slams and other such events downstairs. We had ended up completely remodling the downstairs under Nora's design and it now had a bar and a kitchen. Most people in New York called it Café Livre and it was actually a trendy night-life scene which attracted artists and hipsters; but to me, it would always be Truncheon Books.

Nora now worked for an independent interior design company tree days a week, managed the Café the rest of the time, and continued writing her blog posts late into the night. She was one of the most hard-working people I knew; I was so proud of how far she had come from the seventeen-year-old trainwreck I had first met her as, how she had turned her life around all on her own.

Just as her breaths were becoming steady and her body was warming with sleep, I decided to tell her so. She looked up at me from her spot on my chest, Manhattan's lights twinkling in her pond-green eyes, and smiled. "I didn't do it on my own. I couldn't have done it without you."

Smiling back, I just held her tight to me as we both dropped off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

"Hey, you." James' voice was gravely as it came through my computer's speakers. He looked like he'd been through hell and back, his eyes tired his forehead creased.

I smiled into my webcam at him. "Hey, baby. How are you doing? How are things over there?"

I was sitting in my childhood bedroom with the door closed so I wouldn't wake Lorelai, Luke and Emerson, who were all sound asleep upstairs. It was midday in Dublin, and seven in the morning in Stars Hollow. I had set my alarm to wake up for our scheduled Skype conversation; James had been too busy with funeral arrangements and family time to talk until then. My hair was a mess and I was still in my pyjamas, but I didn't care. I was just glad to finally see his face, hear his voice.

He sighed. "I'm exhausted, Rory. I constantly have a headache from crying and my entire family is at my house, there's no room to think or breathe. All I want to do is sit with me Dad and me brothers and drink and grieve in peace, but I've got cousins coming out of my arse and aunts pinching me cheeks and—god, I miss you." His breath caught and he pressed his fingers to his eyes. "You've no idea how badly I wish you were here. It would make all this shit bearable."

My eyes prickled with tears, but I knew I had to be strong for James in this moment. "I know, babe. I _so _wish I could be there for you." I felt the familiar roll of guilt in my stomach. With the wedding all paid for, we had barely been able to afford James' plane ticket home. Me going with him just wasn't in the cards. I thought, briefly, about asking my father for help, but he was, for all intents and purposes, estranged, and I was hardly going to end up in another Friday-night-dinner scenario with him. Plus, someone had to stay behind to tie up all the loose ends. And I had told my editor I would be back at work on Wednesday.

James and I chatted a bit more, but I could tell he was too drained to have a real full conversation. I let him go, tearfully telling him I loved him, and shut my laptop.

I wandered out into the kitchen and helped myself to a bowl of cereal. As I sat there, feeling way too heavy and emotional for eight in the morning, my phone began buzzing on the table. "Hello?"

"Hey, Rory." It was my editor, Rufus. "Sorry to call so early—something's come up."

I rubbed my forehead, repressing a sigh. "No worries, Rufus. What's up?"

"I think you're going to like this. There's a new play opening Off-Broadway this weekend in New York, but it's rumoured that it's going to move On-Broadway very, very soon." Rufus' voice was practically crackling with giddiness. "Anyway, apparently the lady who normally writes Off-Broadway reviews for the _Times _just went into labour so she's no able to review it, and I guess they looked at a list or something and they turned to _us _to take her place for this show!"

I sat up a little straighter. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." I could hear Rufus making a drum-roll sound, probably on his desk, "they _loved _your review for Vania and Sonia and Masha and Spike at the Shubert and asked if _you could review this play for them._"

I very nearly dropped my phone into my cereal. "_What_?"

"The _Times_, Rory! The _New York Fucking Times_! You made it, kid!"

Before I could stop myself, I let out a shriek of pure joy, leaping from my seat and jumping around my kitchen. In my elation I barely noticed the thundering of Lorelai's footsteps on the stairs, until she scolded me from the kitchen doorway, "_Rory! _It's eight in the morning; _what_ are you screaming about?"

I could hear Emerson crying upstairs but hardly cared in the moment. I spoke into my phone, holding a hand up to my mother to wait. "When is it?"

"Thursday night!" Rufus shrieked in response.

"I'll be there! _Oh my god_!"

As soon as I hun gup the phone, Lorelai was on me. "What the hell was that all about?"

"I made it, Mom," I cried, my eyes shining with tears of joy, this time. "I'm going to write for the _New York Times. _I'm going to Broadway!"

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for all dat exposition and not a lot of Rory/Jess action; but hey, you asked, and I delivered! I have a feeling y'all can guess what's gonna happen next...

Pleeeeaaase keep reviewing! Your ideas and insights and opinions have seriously been a huge help and inspiration. Keep em coming!


	5. The Return of Dodger & Dead Nerves

A/N: Ack! I'm LOVING all your reviews! I'm so glad you guys like James and Nora. Too many times I find that Literati stories involve some form of Stockholm Syndrome. And OC's are always fun. Anyway, on with it!

**Eight and a Half**

by Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Five – The Return of Dodger & Dead Nerves_

**Rory**

The next couple of days passed by with agonizing slowness. The promise of being in New York on Wednesday was enough to get me through all the cancellations that had to be made, but it also made me impatient for it all to be over with so I could lose myself in the city for a couple of days.

I had decided not to tell James, yet—he was still so upset and I couldn't bear to drag attention away from him in his time of need. I Skyped with him at least once a day, but he was always quiet and distracted, or drunk. Usually drunk. He was either living up to his Irish heritage or it was the only way he and his brothers and father could have proper bonding time. Whatever the reason, I usually just spoke to him gently until he wanted to end the call, letting him call all the shots. James was a sensitive soul.

The day I'd gotten the call from Rufus, I'd celebrated with Lorelai and Luke and a few of the people who were still in town—Lane and Zach came by, along with Sookie. Jackson sacrificed himself to stay with all the children, including Emerson and Lane's kids, so that we could have a proper party. We'd all sat around in the living room, drinking and playing Monopoly. It was a nice reprieve from the heaviness of the weekend.

By Tuesday, I was warring to go. Everything was done—cancellations made, all the guests notified, decorations stored away. I left my wedding dress in the closet in my room, figuring it was only logical to store it there until I needed it, although I felt a tug at my heartstrings when I wondered just when that would be. I didn't even know when James was coming back, let alone when we would be able to set everything up again. I ran my fingers down the fine, creamy satin, and my eyes burned with tears I simply refused to shed. Pressing the heels of my palms into my eyes, I left the room and shut the door behind me.

I stood alone in the living room. Lorelai had taken Emerson out in the pram for a walk after my request for a bit of quiet time alone, and Luke was at the diner. The house was strangely quiet.

Still blinking away tears, I sat on the couch and stared at my phone in my lap. Unlocking it, I scrolled absently through my contacts, suddenly just really wanting to hear a voice. Any voice, really, but of course my scrolling stopped at the J's. I frowned when I realized his name wasn't there. He _had _given me his number, I'd watched him do it. I scrolled around through my contacts, wondering if he'd used some stupid alias, and what the hell it might be. Finally, my gaze fell on something new in the D section.

_Dodger._

I grinned in spite of myself, and then dialed his number.

He picked up on the third ring. "Yeah."

"It took me forever to find you in my phone," I said sweetly. "Dodger?"

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "I'd have thought you'd figure it out."

"It's been awhile since I called you that."

"Yeah." We were silent for a moment; I knew he was waiting for me to seak. "So what's up?" he prompted.

I fiddled with a loose thread on the couch, folding my legs up and under me. "What are you doing tomorrow night?" I asked casually.

"Probably working." His voice was loaded with questions, none of which he asked, waiting for me to explain instead.

I nodded, though he couldn't see. "I'm going to be in town tomorrow and Thursday night, maybe longer. I was hoping we could meet up? Go for drinks, catch up _properly_?"

He chuckled. "Any particular reason you're coming here?"

"It's kind of an in-person thing," I replied, biting my lip through my smile.

"Or you're just being mysterious on purpose," he shot back. "When do you get in?"

"Probably early afternoon, depending on when I can get away from my mom," I said. "I think she's planning on kidnapping me and keeping me locked in the basement forever."

"I wouldn't put it past her. I didn't know your house had a basement."

"It doesn't."

"Thought so."

"So, drinks? Tomorrow night?"

He sighed and I heard paper rustling in the background. "I don't know, Rory."

"Just to talk," I pressed, trying not to sound desperate.

"As opposed to what, exactly?" I could practically hear his eyebrow raise.

My face felt very warm all of a sudden. I sank down into the cushions on the couch and swung my feet out to rest on the coffee table. "Look, Jess, I know we had a rough start the other day. But it's been forever, and I really do want to catch up and get to know you again. It's been weird all these years without talking to you. I miss—well, I miss talking to you." I couldn't just say _I miss you. _It seemed too intimate, even though seeing him again had made it a very blatant truth for me. I _had _missed Jess—his sarcastic humour, our long, deep conversations (when he felt like talking, that is), the late night walks, the tender kisses—

_So _not going there now.

Jess sighed into the receiver again. I waited on baited breath for him to make up his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "Text me when you get settled and I'll see if I can get away for a bit. I gotta go."

"Okay, see you tomorrow?"

"Sure." _Click._

I tossed my phone onto the couch in front of me and pulled my knees back up to my chest, playing with my toes absently. He'd seemed so..._reluctant. _Granted, we hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms, but still. He must be curious about my life, as I was of his. I felt tears sting my eyes again and groaned in frustration. I was so _fragile. _I prayed that being in New York tomorrow cleared me from this funk, because at the moment I was _way _too emotional to handle a face-to-face conversation with Jess Mariano.

Lorelai came home some time later, gesturing for me to be quiet as she carried a sleeping Emerson to bed. When she came down, she tossed a jewel case at me, a large, shit-eating grin on her face.

"What's this?" I asked, eyeing my mother suspiciously as I flipped over the case. Inside was a plain CD labeled _Rory in NYC._

"It's a CD," Lorelai offered brilliantly, joining me on the couch.

I rolled my eyes. "I _see_ that it's a CD, Mom. What's it for?"

"Luke and I made it last night," she explained, her blue eyes gleaming. "It's a playlist for your trip to New York. All the songs are about New York in some way, shape or form. From Sinatra to Jay-Z, it's all on there, baby."

Touched, I smiled widely and gave my mother a hug. "Mom, I love it! Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," she chuckled as she pulled back. "Weird city gets weird songs written about it. Some of them I had never even heard of before. We went into the dark depts of YouTube. I've seen things, Rory." She clutched my arm, getting melodramatic. "Horrors like you wouldn't believe!"

I laughed and leaned my head against Lorelai's, breathing in the familiar scent of baby, and of home. "I'm gonna miss you, Mom."

"I'm gonna miss you, too, kiddo," she whispered, stroking my hair.

* * *

><p>As soon as I heard the familiar downbeat to <em>Empire State of Mind <em>I cranked the volume dial on my car's stereo system and roll down the windows, letting cool air blast my hair around my head to relieve the stifling heat (CONCRETE JUNGLE WHERE DREAMS ARE MADE OF).

I was driving to New Haven first, to drop off and pick up some stuff; mostly exchanging wedding and honeymoon clothes for business attire and casual summer clothes for New York. I'd been to the big city quite a few times, but I always found myself paying extra attention to how I looked when I roamed its streets. It made me feel more like I belonged there if I meshed in with the trendy artists, instead of sticking out as a visitor or tourist.

As I entered the condo I shared with James, kicking off my shoes and dragging my suitcases in after me, I felt a pang of sadness. The condo was silent and clean, and empty of all our personal items which had been packed away into travel bags. It looked sterile, not-lived-in, bare. Our mail was in a neat pile on the counter in the galley kitchen; our neighbour, Heidi, had kindly offered to collect our mail and feed James' cat, Sherlock, while we were away.

The cat in question jumped up on the counter at that moment, startling me. I picked him up and cuddled him for a moment before he squirmed and jumped out of my grasp, having had enough affection for one day.

Not wanting to linger too long, I dragged my suitcases into our room and took everything out of one, replacing its contents with things for New York. I made short work of separating and organizing, grabbed my briefcase and a couple of books, and headed back out.

As I pulled onto the highway I put Lorelai's mix CD back into the player. Long, lonely chords on a piano rang out. This song I did not recognize, but I realized immediately why it was on this playlist.

_If you were here beside me / Instead of in New York / If the curve of you was curved on me_

It was a beautiful, haunting love song. I rolled my windows shut, wanting the song to take over everything, and as the sun flared against my windshield, temporarily blinding me every few seconds, I found my vision even more compromised by tears.

_I'd tell you that I loved you / Before I ever knew you / Cause I loved the simple thought of you_

Instantly, Jess' face sprang into my mind. His face as I remembered it: young and supple with those big, expressive brown eyes. Then his face as it was now: harder, rougher, with stubble like sandpaper and the faint beginnings of lines between his brows.

_Come on, come out, come here come here / Come on, come out, come here come here_

What was it about Jess? Why did he enchant me right from the moment I met him? Why did he continue to pull at me in ways which no one else on the planet was capable? Even James, for all that I loved him, for how happy he made me, did not compel me as much as Jess did. Jess, for all his mystery, for all his closed-off-ness, who made up for it by allowing me to see those rare moments when I could, in fact, read him like a book.

_The lone neon nights and the ache of the ocean / And the fire that was aching to spark_

"_God_!" I cried aloud, hitting the steering wheel with an open palm, so frustrated, so, so _done _with this pining bullshit. I was quickly beginning to reget asking Jess out for drinks. What was I thinking? James was at home, _grieving his mother's death _with his family, and I was about to go flouncing around New York city, _without _him knowing, and meet up with an old flame who _still freaking churned my gut. _

_I miss it all, from the love to the lightning / And the lack of it snaps me in two_

I could cancel. It didn't seem like Jess really wanted to see me anyway.

_But—_

_If you were here beside me / Instead of in New York / In the arms you said you'd never leave_

I _ached _to talk to him, to get a peek at what his life had been like for the past eight and a half years, to get to _know _him again, see if he was different, or the same, or anything in between. Pick his brain, read his books, get his advice on trivial matters. If anything, I just wanted some form of closure, some sort of _sign_ that maybe, one day, we would be okay. It just felt like he and I had some serious unfinished business, whatever that may be. The anticlimax of our last meeting in Philadelphia had left me uncertain, and our encounter in Stars Hollow had just left me so goddamn confused. I just wanted to be his _friend._

_I'd tell you that it's simple / And it was only ever thus / There is nowhere else that I belong_

Forcefully, I pressed skip on the CD player, and Taylor Swift began keening out at me, welcoming me to New York, just as I happened to cross over the Brooklyn Bridge.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"_God_, turn that shit _off_!" Nora groaned as she walked behind the bar carrying a tray of clean pint glasses.

I looked up from my spot, seated at the bar preparing the cash float for tonight, and smiled at her with one corner of my mouth. "You mean you don't like Taylor Swift?" I asked innocently. Of course she fucking didn't.

"She _just moved here,_" Nora whined. The glasses _clinked_ loudly as set set them on the rack to dry. "She doesn't know anything about New York. Now she's welcoming everybody like she fucking owns the place. _Nobody_ owns New York. It's a beast. It's _alive_—!" Her hands came down on my forearms, gripping my skin as she leaned towards me, dipping her head to catch my lips in a kiss. "It takes no prisoners," she finished, murmuring against my mouth.

"Babe, I'm busy," I protested, although my hand slid easily from the wad of twenties I'd been holding to the nape of her neck.

She pulled back and winked at me, leaning her cheek on her closed fist and watching me work, a clever smile gracing her face. "Serious boy. You work too hard. You and your crooked mouth." She brushed the pad of her thumb over my bottom lip thoughtfully.

I gently swatted her hand away, looking up at her through my lashes. "Don't make fun of my dead nerves."

"You guys are disgusting," Isabel chided as she exited from the kitchen with a spray bottle and a rag. She was the head server for the Café, an aspiring Broadway star with platinum blond hair she always had coiffed _just so. _Her clothes were always theatrical and whimsical; tonight it was a pair of floor-length, fire-engine-red overalls with a sequined silver top underneath. "Seriously, _so unprofesh_." She rolled her eyes playfully when we ignored her.

Nora leaned forward and I went in expectantly for a kiss, but she just reached past me and switched radio stations. I groaned as she whirled away from me, squealing as THIS HIT THAT ICE COLD MICHELLE PFEIFFER THAT WHITE GOLD came blaring through the Café's sound system. Isabel joined in the wild dancing that ensued, using the butt end of a wine glass as her microphone.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out, keeping my eyes trained on my freak of a girlfriend as she made putting glassware away to music look sexy. The text was from an unknown number. Opening it, I read:

_Just got to the hotel. Gonna hang out and walk around for a bit. Meet later?_

I hadn't saved Rory's number after she'd called me yesterday. Figuring what the hell, I did so now, for some reason labelling her name as Lorelai Gilmore. Since I didn't have Lorelai Senior's number, it didn't really matter. There it was now, right above the contact called Luke's.

"Who's that?" Nora asked brightly, nodding towards my phone as she put the last of the glasses on the rack.

I shrugged and pocketed my phone. "Friend of mine is in town. Wants to meet up later."

"Ooh a friend? Didn't know you had those," she added teasingly, smiling at me as she came around the counter.

I turned to face her, grabbing her by the belt loops and pulling her to stand between my legs, cradling her hips with mine. She ran her hands through my hair and massaged my temples; my eyes rolled back and I sighed. "You wound me."

"I gotta close up tonight," Nora said, continuing her tantalising ministrations on my scalp. "Maybe bring your friend by later on? Unless you're ashamed of me and don't want anyone meeting me."

I raised my eyebrows and wrapped my arms around her narrow waist, hugging her close. "Or I just want to keep you all to myself." I rested my head against her small breasts, listening to her laugh as it rolled through her ribcage.

Isabel made retching noises from somewhere behind the bar.

"Alright, but don't be out too late," she said, closing her arms around my head and kissing the top of it. "We have a shipment arriving at eight tomorrow morning."

After she'd disappeared back into the kitchen I took my phone out again to shoot a quick text back to Rory.

_7pm. Stardust Diner, Times Square. Can't be long tho. _

I absolutely hated Ellen's Stardust Diner with a passion fiery enough for the seventh ring of hell, but I knew Rory would like it. Singing waiters in tight pants and _all that jazz_. God, I'd been living in New York too long.

Isabel's head popped up from behind the bar and she gave me a knowing look from underneath the pounds of glitter on her eyelashes. "Jess Mariano. When the hell are you going to propose to that girl?"

I rolled my eyes. This was not the first time Isabel had asked me this. It wasn't the first time anyone had asked me this, really. It certainly would not be the last. "I already told you. She doesn't want me to."

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I beg to differ."

"She's twenty-two, Izzy." I shoved the cash float into the till and shut the money box, pocketing the key. "She has a whole life to live before she even thinks about getting married."

"You're thirty next year," she pointed out obnoxiously as I went around the bar to put the till in the register. "What about your life?"

"It's not about me," I muttered. "This is really none of your concern."

"Jess, it's been five years. Nora has guys all over the village trailing after her like dogs. If you don't put a ring on it soon, she's gonna start living that _life _a lot sooner than you'd imagine."

"Whoa, I cannot even begin to list the number of reasons why I _so _don't want to talk about this with you." I turned and gave Isabel my most withering stare. "Clearly, you don't know her at all."

She backed off, holding her hands up in surrender. "Suit yourself, lover boy. Just might be something to think about before you go meet your _friend_." And with that, she turned on her heel and strutted off into the kitchen.

I just sat there, suddenly feeling as if my phone was burning a hole in my pocket.

* * *

><p>AN: I was going to make this chapter longer, but the rest was so contentious that I decided to make it a chapter on its own. It should be up at some point over the weekend.

P.S. True story about Milo's mouth. Dem dead nerves.

P.P.S. Please continue to review! You guys have no idea how helpful they are and how happy they make me! I may even be able to keep posting daily if you continue... ;D

Songs mentioned: "Empire State of Mind" by Jay-Z feat. Alicia Keys; "New York" by Snow Patrol; "Welcome to New York" by Taylor Swift; "Uptown Funk" by Mark Ronson feat. Bruno Mars


	6. The Café Livre & Wost Case Scenarios

A/N: Thanks for the feedback on the last chapter guys! Don't worry, Literati is coming, I swear!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Six – The Café Livre & Wost Case Scenarios_

**Rory**

I kept my headphones in, listening to Lorelai's playlist as I wandered around Times Square. From Norah Jones to Bobby Darin, it was all on there. It put a bounce in my step as I strolled along the busy streets; summer in New York was _packed, _and today was no exception. Could it be that all eight million people living here were all in Times Square at the sametime? It sure felt like it. I bought myself a pretzel the size of my head and sat on the glowing red steps in the center of the square, careful to keep my legs tucked in so as not to flash anyone. I rarely wore a skirt, but today was one of those days I felt positively _feminine. _

Of course, I ended up in Colony Music, sifting through the endless shelves of vinyls and score books for all kinds of instruments; that is, every instrument imagineable. I felt truly content for the first time since Saturday, just wandering amongst the music and listening to Oletta Adams tell me all about being in a New York state of mind, all the while completely agreeing with her. Perhaps this was just the break I needed.

I wandered over to Wall Street and shamelessly window shopped, and stopped by FAO Schwarz to play on the famous gigantic keyboard. All the while, I just listened to my music and kept a stupid smile on my face, just enjoying being lost in the big city, all by myself for the first time in a long while.

At five o'clock I headed back to the hotel to shower and get ready to meet Jess. My shirt was sticking to my back and my hair was matted around my forehead and neck; hours of walking around New York City on a hot summer's day had me drenched in my own sweat.

I stood in the middle of the hotel room, one towel wrapped tightly around my bust, another one around my hair, and put my hands on my hips, deliberating what to wear. Not wanting to put _too _much thought into it, I pulled on a pair of jean shorts and a loose-fitting boho-style top, and completed the outfit with a pair of gladiator sandals. I made short work of my hair, blow-drying it and then sweeping it into a messy braid, grateful for the breeze on the back of my neck this provided me. I swiped on a bit of mascara and lip gloss, and then I was ready to go.

I still had an hour to kill before I had to meet Jess. I puttered around my room a bit, then sifted through my bags until I found my book. I curled up on the couch to read, but quickly found that the words were blurring on the page, and I gave up after I read the same sentence five times and still had no idea what I had just read.

Bored and anxious, I grabbed my cell and phoned Lorelai, hoping her incessant chatter would pass the time. "How can I possibly be bored and only on my fourth hour in New York City?" I asked, ignoring her loud greeting in which she once again referred to me as the _something _of her loins.

Lorelai giggled. "Rory, I want you to know that while I am generally extremely proud of you, you continue to make me face-palm at least once per day."

"You're funny," I snarled, pegging to kill whoever taught my mother what a face-palm was. "Seriously, what's wrong with me?"

"Well, do you have plans for tonight?" Lorelai asked. "Do you have any friends you could meet up with?"

Fearing I may wear a hole in the carpet where I was pacing, I sat back down on the couch, pulling my feet up under me. "I...have plans already for tonight," I murmured casually. "But it's not for another hour and I don't know what to do in the meantime."

"Oh, yeah? What plans?"

_She knew. _There was no pussyfooting around it now. "Um—"

"I _reeeaaaaallllyyyy_ hope it doesn't start with a J and end with an _Ess_..." Lorelai pressed, her voice getting whinier by the minute.

"Well—"

"I _knew _it!"

"Mom, it's nothing. We're just catching up over some drinks—"

"Some _drinksss-uh? _As in, plural?" Lorelai asked incredulously. "Rory, everyone knows you can't handle your liquor."

"_A _drin_k_," I spat, articulating the _K_, "and I can too hold my liquor! Did you _see _me at the opening ceremony?"

"_Rory_," Lorelai said, her voice suddenly serious, "what are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" But my voice was quiet.

"You know what I mean. I'm a little concerned about this Jess thing. First you're inviting him to your wedding, then you're drinking with him in New York—is there even a review, Rory? Or are you really just going to see him?"

I exploded, suddenly fed up. "Mom! I can handle myself, okay? And I sure as hell can handle Jess. Besides, I'm _engaged_, remember? Nothing is going to happen. It's just two people—two _friends—_grabbing a drink and catching up on the past eight and a half years in which we haven't seen each-other. Okay?"

"Yes, tell me more about this engagement," Lorelai snapped. I could hear the fight growing in her voice. "James called the house today. He had no idea you'd left town. Thank god I didn't let anything about New York slip."

"I didn't tell him because I didn't want to take any attention away from him and his family," I explained quickly.

Lorelai sighed exasperatedly. "You really think James is the kind of guy who would look at your good news that way? Are you sure your not telling him had _nothing _to do with the fact that you planned on seeing Jess while you were there?"

"It wouldn't matter anyway, because James doesn't even know Jess exists," I cried, then I stopped.

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone. Then, Lorelai exhaled slowly. "You never told him."

I pinched the bridge of my nose, damning myself internally for letting that slip. "James has a jealous streak, Mom. If I'd told him about Jess and our history he never would have been comforable with me seeing Jess again. It's so stupid because Jess and I weren't even talking, but...I couldn't stand the idea of not _being able _to talk to him if the opportunity arose..."

"Did you tell him about Dean?" Lorelai asked. "He was at the party."

"Yeah, he knows about Dean," I conceded weakly. "And Logan, for that matter. But not Jess. Never Jess."

Lorelai was silent for a bit longer. I could practically hear the gears wirring in her head. Then, finally, "Rory, you're a big girl. I know you're going to do whatever you want no matter what I say, but just for the record, I think you're making a huge mistake by seeing Jess tonight. That's all I'm going to say."

"Good," I snapped, "bye." And I hung up.

I angrily drummed my fingers against my book cover, and then had a wonderful idea. I still had forty minutes. Grabbing my purse and my sunglasses, I headed out the door.

* * *

><p>I gaped at the brick exterior and then looked back at the map app on my phone. Sure enough, I was in the exact right place. But this was far from what I had expected. What I had expected was a classy, hole-in-the-wall office-type space with muted colours and a plain sign on the front.<p>

What was actually here was a huge brick façade with parisian style patio furniture complete with brilliant yellow sun umbrellas. Wrought iron fencing closed off the outside dining area, and a sandwhich board was propped out on the sidewalk listing the mouth-watering food and drink specials being offered that evening. I could hear live music drifting through the outdoor speakers; a lone guitarist and vocalist, by the sounds of it. And the place was _packed. _All the tables outside were full and I could see the press of bodies through the windows, which were framed with lavender shutters.

Above the huge industrial-looking set of double doors was a sign which read _Caf__é__ Livre, _with _by Truncheon Books_ printed in smaller letters underneath it.

I couldn't believe my eyes. _This _was where Jess _worked_?

The place was too inviting _not _to go in, all my nerves aside. I put my phone away, pushed my sunglasses up onto my forehead, and pushed open the doors to Café Livre.

Inside, I saw that my theory was right; a young man was seated on a raised platform with a guitar in his lap, and he was accompanying himself on the guitar as he sang (_I should live in salt for leaving you...behind_). The chatter in the place was kept to a dull roar; but what amazed me was the seating arrangements. There were no tables for two or even for four—the dining area was lined with four long wooden tables which stretched the entire length of the space, with matching barstools attached. It was obvious that people had arrived in smaller groups but were now chatting freely with their neighbours, and each table was littered with jugs of beer in various stages of depletion. I caught sight of some of the food, as well, and instantly felt my stomach rumble; at the same moment, I realized that I hadn't eaten anything since that pretzel in Times Square.

Checking my watch, I realized I still had half an hour till I had to meet Jess, and the Stardust Diner was only a short cab ride away. My eyes swept the tables, immediately knowing I was too shy to sit at one of them alone and proceed to chat with strangers for the next half an hour. That's when I caught sight of the bar, kind of tucked into the corner by the stage. I made my way towards it, relieved to find that there was indeed seating available there and that there were a couple of loners already seated.

As I pulled myself up onto a seat, I finally allowed myself to sweep the place for any sign of Jess. Quickly realizing he wasn't there, I relaxed a little and swung my purse over the back of my chair.

A pretty girl with dark but vibrant red hair emerged from the swinging kitchen door and approached me with a friendly smile. "Hey there," she said brightly, "would you like a menu or are you just drinking?"

I took in the sight of her: hipster-style clothing, one ear covered in piercings as well as a gold ring through one nostril, and each arm a sleeve of intricate tattoos. I tried to picture Jess working the bar next to her, but just couldn't. "Menu, please," I replied, returning her smile. When she returned with a menu, I said, "This place is so cool. I've never been here before."

She got a little twinkle in her eyes, which I noticed were a rather stunning shade of green. "Thanks! It's been a long haul but I couldn't be happier with it."

Mulling over her words, my mouth fell open. "You're the manager?"

She smiled. "That's me."

"Wow," I breathed, genuinely impressed. She looked so young to be a manager; barely legal drinking age, even. "Well, I'm impressed. This place is great. I love the long tables."

She looked absolutely delighted. "Thanks, hon. I'll give you a minute to look over the menu?"

"Actually," I said before she could walk away, "I was wondering if you could tell me if Jess is here?"

She perked up a little. "No, sorry, he's gone home already. You know Jess?" Almost absently, she grabbed a glass from the sanitizer and wiped it with a dry cloth.

I deliberated my words, unsure if I wanted to reveal too much. After all, he didn't know that I had come here. Part of me didn't want him to know I had. "He's an old friend," I replied vaguely, turning my gaze briefly to the menu, though I couldn't concentrate on it.

It could have been the low light, but I swear I saw her smile falter a little, and I noticed her body tense slightly. She stared at me, her eyes darting up and down to take me in. Finally, though, "I see," was all she said.

Anxious for this awkward moment to be over, I quickly scanned the menu and then handed it back to her. "I think I'll just grab some yam fries for now. With the salt and pepper dip, please."

She smiled through closed lips, took my menu, and walked away briskly. I frowned, feeling a sudden chill even in the sweltering heat of the packed summer bar. _That was weird._

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

Rory was late.

I didn't know why I was surprised; Gilmores were known for their tardiness. But each second she left me alone in this godforsaken place was worth a snarky remark at her expense, and as it was already she was looking at a long night of infuriating commentary from me.

Finally, she arrived, out of breath and pink in the face. She tossed her purse and then herself into the booth opposite me, sighing heavily. "Sorry I'm late," she breathed, taking her sunglasses off her forehead and running a hand over to smooth her bangs back. "Traffic sucked. I ran most of the way here."

"Traffic always sucks here," I replied nonchalantly, picking up my menu.

The waiter approached to fill Rory's water glass, which she quickly downed, sweetly asking for a refil. I felt a smile tug at the corner of my mouth as I watched her; the pink in her face was spreading in lines down her neck and over her collarbone, dipping down beyond the limited view that her shirt gave me. Her mascara was slightly smudged in the corner of one eye, but I was hardly going to tell her. Overall, she looked as _Rory _as ever. Rory in summertime. My favourite Rory, I realized in the moment. In the summer, Rory was always slightly pink, her eyes always just that much more vibrant and shiny, her small chest swelling slightly in the heat.

I shook my head, already annoyed with myself and everything else as a song broke out somewhere behind me (GOOD MORNING, BALTIMORE!). I could feel Rory's knowing look on me as the waiter left us to peruse, but I kept my eyes firmly trained on the menu (though I could not tell you a single thing that was actually on it). Finally, she said, her eyes sparkling, "You hate it here, don't you?"

"With a passion fierier than Mel Gibson's Christ," I growled.

She raised her eyebrows. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?"

"Bail."

I peered up at her from under my lashes, and I couldn't help but return her slightly evil-looking grin.

We pushed through the crowds of Times Square, searching for somewhere suitable to eat. I felt Rory's hand clamp down onto my forearm so as to not get separated from me, and I all but dragged her through, throwing over my shoulder that This was not Stars Hollow, Gilmore, you gotta push, for Christssakes.

Finally, we settled on a hot dog stand and sat at a table in the middle of the Square to eat. To her credit, she devoured hers almost as fast as I did mine. Licking ketchup off her thumb, she looked up at me thoughtfully. "You belong here, you know," she said quietly.

"Oh yeah?" I popped the last bit of my hot dog into my mouth, savouring the salty goodness of New York specialty on my tongue.

"Yeah," she confirmed, bobbing her head. She sat on her hands and leaned forward, shrugging her shoulders up to her ears. "You belong where there's activity and excitement and art. I mean it, Jess."

I wiped my mouth on a napkin and sat back, folding my hands across my abdomen. "I know you do."

We stayed silent like that for a moment, her scrunched up and leaning towards me, me slouching in my chair with my knees spread wide. Finally, realizing she wasn't going to break the ice, I sat up and leaned forward, linking my fingers together on the table between us. "So. You said you had some in-person news to tell me?"

Her eyebrows shot up and I smirked, knowing she had likely forgotten all about it. "I nearly forgot!" _Check_. "I'm here to review an Off-Broadway show." Her eyes lit up as she spoke.

I scratched my nose, trying not to let my surprise show. "Uh...review?"

She blushed softly and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. I work for the New Haven Register...I'm an arts columnist. I mostly review live performances." She bit her lip, dropping her gaze. "I guess you wouldn't have known that."

I jerked one shoulder up. "Nope."

She rolled her eyes, smiling. "Well, aren't you just up for a good conversation tonight?" she asked coyly.

I returned the eye roll and leaned back in my seat, tilting the chair back so it balanced on its hind legs. "This is kinda weird," I explained.

She nodded, then stood, slinging her purse over her shoulder. She stood at my side expectantly, but I remained seated. "What are you doing?" I grunted.

"We need booze," she replied simply.

I couldn't argue with her on that one.

We strolled down the street in silence, me with my hands buried in the pockets of my shorts, her fiddling with the strap of her purse. I couldn't help but notice how incredibly pasty her bare legs looked next to my olive-toned shins. I could practically see the blue of her veins running their course beneath her skin. Still, it looked as soft as I remembered it, and was still covered in a fragile dusting of freckles. Out of nowhere, a lyric came to me. _Though she's my summer girl, her skin is white as snow / Her eyes are like ice, perhaps she belongs in the cold._

I shook my head to clear the creative thoughts. "Where are we going?" I asked, realizing quickly that we were just wandering.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I was following you. This is your city."

I scoffed. "Hardly _mine_."

She paused, chewing her lip. "Why don't we go to your place?"

I couldn't control my eyes widening, my eyebrows shooting up, and the shocked look I gave her. Hell, I nearly stopped in my tracks. Realizing her mistake, she fumbled over her words, a blush spreading fast over her porcelain skin. "I meant—your work place. Truncheon!" she blurted, panic making her body tense up next to me.

I only barely relaxed, but at least managed to get my expression under control. "I don't think that's a good idea," I mumbled.

Still in recovery, Rory breathed, "Why not?"

"I just spent the last ten hours there, Ror. I don't really want to spend all night there, too." Good excuse. Believable.

I wondered, briefly, why I didn't just tell Rory about Nora. It wasn't as if she was just a passing moment in my life—she was for real. For keeps, if I had it my way. If we were here to _catch up_, Rory deserved to know. But something inside of me—and I desperately wanted to flatten whatever it was—dug its heels in, preventing my brain from linking those thoughts to my mouth.

Rory was talking. "I'd love to spend so much time there. It's a really nice place."

Brain. Function. Process. _What did she just say?_

For the second time that night, I turned to her, shocked. "You _went_?"

Also for the second time, she blushed. "Uh, yeah. Earlier this evening. Was hoping I'd catch you leaving," she added, as if that made up for the fact that she fucking went to the Café. Which likely meant she had _seen _Nora—or heaven forbid, _talked _to Nora.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck—_

Focus.

She was still talking, rambling over her own thoughts. "I'm sorry, I know you probably wanted to show me yourself but I was just so curious. It's really an amazing place, Jess, it's incredible. I wish I'd seen the publishing house—I didn't even know you had a whole restaurant in there! And the food was delicious—"

I was only half listening. I was turning over best and worst case scenarios in my head. Best case scenario: Nora didn't see Rory at all. Isabel served Rory. Maybe even Dimitri did. Yeah, that would be best. _Meh_ case scenario: Nora did see Rory, but didn't talk to her. Worst case scenario: Nora served Rory, and talked to her. _Absolute fucking nightmare_ worst case scenario: _Nora talked to Rory and found out who Rory was. _Or vice versa—

Did Rory know?

Watching Rory ramble, I doubted it. Plus, if Nora had figured it out, I doubted she would have said anything to Rory. But if Nora knew, I was fucked later tonight when I got home. I was already bracing myself for a Nora-nova explosion. I'd only seen it a few times over the span of our relationship, but it was definitely _not _pretty, and _so not _what I was in the mood for tonight. It was already a fucking weird-ass night, I was with Rory Gilmore in Times Square for crying out loud.

"_Rory_," I suddenly snapped, cutting her off mid-sentence. "We're _not going_ to Truncheon, okay?"

She clamped down on her lip immediately and looked away, once again fiddling with the strap of her purse.

And just like that, I was the asshole.

I sighed and raked a hand through my hair. Taking Rory's elbow, I steered her to the side of the sidewalk, leaving room for people to get by us. "Look," I began, keeping my voice low and calm, "I'll take you back to your hotel. This really isn't—we shouldn't be—" I paused, scrubbing my hand across my jaw. "I can't do this," I said finally. I didn't know where the words had come from, but there they were.

She got that pouty, pleading look on her face that I hated. I could never deny her anything when she looked at me like that. "Jess, please," she said softly, folding her arms across her torso. "You don't need to tell me about your life or anything if you don't want to. And I won't tell you about mine, if you don't want to hear it. But please, can we just...I want to...I need a friend, okay?" She let this burst forth, and I knew right away this was what she had been meaning to say all along. "I'm having a shitty time right now and I just need to talk to someone who doesn't know me. Someone subjective, someone who will just listen and not judge and just _be there._ So, please, can we _please _get some alcohol so I can spill my guts? Because I _really _need to spill my guts, Jess."

I was stunned. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard Rory speak so much about a personal matter. Absently, instinctly, I reached out and gently brushed the back of my forefinger across her cheek, sweeping a lock of hair behind her ear. "But I _do_ know you, Rory," I said softly, looking directly into her eyes.

She got a strange look in her eyes, one that rattled me to the very core, but then it was gone with a couple of blinks of her eye. She stepped out of my touch and pushed her hands into the pockets of her shorts. In the slowly fading evening light, the crown of her hair shone red. "It's for the _Times_," she mumbled to her feet.

I blinked, taken aback. "What is?"

"My article," she said. "My review. It's for the _New York Times._"

I let my breath go in one long, smooth exhalation, staring down at Rory with a strange burning sensation in my gut. Then, slinging an arm over her shoulder, I steered her back into the flow of people, letting the current take us towards _just the place_ I knew we needed to go.

"Where are we going?" she asked breathlessly.

"To get booze," I replied, grinning down at her. "We're celebrating, Gilmore."

* * *

><p>AN: Thanks for reviewing, guys! And I _promise, _next chapter is alllllllllll Jess and Rory. Review for the glimpse of what's to come? ;)


	7. Drinks & Drinks & Drinks

A/N: Thanks for the reviews on the last chapter guys! Keep em coming please and thank you :) Also, I forgot to mention all the songs I used in the previous chapter. They were "New York State of Mind" by Oletta Adams, "I Should Live In Salt" by The National, and "Good Morning Baltimore" from Hairspray.

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Seven – Drinks & Drinks & Drinks_

**Rory**

Jess took me to a complete hole-in-the-wall, a place so out of the way that I would have passed by it a million times and not noticed it. It was warm and intimate, busy but not crowded, and not too loud. Mellow indie music crooned at us through the speakers, and I instantly liked the place. Strangely enough, I felt more relaxed than I had anywhere else in New York thus far. The best part? The far wall of the place was entirely made up of bookshelves, which were bursting at the seams with endless volumes.

We ducked into a booth near the rear of the place; in the middle of the table, a single tea-light burned in a frosted mason jar.

Darting my eyes towards the books, I grinned at Jess. Now that we had settled on a spot, I was able to study him properly. He'd gotten a hair cut since I saw him over the weekend, I noted. It was now short all over—not quite military-style, but shorter than I'd ever seen it. Despite the fact that he had shaved, which revealed the thin scar on his upper lip, his hair cut made him look older; something in the way it emphasized his neck and shoulder muscles—which, I also noted, were considerably more toned than I ever remembered them being. His olive skin was darker, too, as if he'd spent a lot of time outside. "I'm guessing you come here often?" I asked him, trying to shake my thoughts away from his different but undeniably attractive appearance.

Jess hovered his fingers briefly over the open flame, not just long enough to burn. Before he could respond, a server in a Yankees jersey came up to our table. Her smile noticeably got bigger when she saw Jess sitting there. "Jess, baby. 'S been a while," she said warmly, chewing on her gum with fervor. She looked to be in her late thirties, maybe early forties. She reminded me fondly of Babette.

"Hey, Donna," he replied, his voice silky smooth. "How ya doin'?"

She sighed dramatically, propping her tray on her hip. "Oh, ya know. Same, same. Dougie's in juvie. Again." She rolled her eyes, her gaze landing on me. "Well, now, this isn't—"

"Donna, this is Rory. She's an old friend from Connecticut," Jess interjected somewhat quickly.

Donna's eyebrows arched in surprise. "Well, well. A blast from Jess' mysterious past. Don't worry, honey, Jess's told me nothin'. Whether that's a good thing or not, well, who knows!"

She offered me her hand, which I shook, returning her smile. "Well, it's nice to meet you. I like the bookshelves back there," I said, nodding towards the back wall.

Her eyes slid to Jess and she winked. "You're not the only one, sugar." She handed Jess the drinks menu. "Alright, so. We've got mojitos on special tonight; ten bucks a jug. We also have a discount on cans of Twisted Tea, which I would _highly _recommend," she added with a pointed glance towards me.

"I think Rory's more of a wine girl," Jess said with a smirk for my benefit.

I met his gaze evenly. "I'll drink anything." I flashed Donna a winning smile. "Twisted Tea sounds great."

Jess' smirk grew wider. "Make that two Twisted Teas, _and _a jug of raspberry mojito."

Donna gaped teasingly. "I like the way you think, Mariano." She held out her hand for the drink menu, but Jess kept his grip on it.

"We're gonna need this a bit longer," he said, giving Donna his most smouldering gaze. Holding her hands up in mock surrender, Donna retreated to the bar. Jess slid his eyes back to me, nothing but amusement in them now. "Anything?" he asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

I jutted my chin out determinedly. "Anything."

He leaned back in the booth, slinging a casual arm over the back of the seat. "I think we're gonna have that theory well tested by the end of tonight."

It was my turn to raise a brow. "Drinking heavily tonight, huh?"

He chuckled. "Kinda thought that was the point." He bit the corner of his bottom lip. "We never drank together before."

"No, we haven't," I said, surprised at the realization. It wasn't that I drank heavily or even frequently, but still it was weird to remember a time when I didn't drink. Although, I hadn't really started until after Jess left Stars Hollow.

Donna came by with our drinks, affectionately nipping Jess' ear with her fingertips before she vanished again. We cracked open our Twisted Teas first, emptying them into the glasses filled with ice that had accompanied them, then held them up to toast.

"Here's to...what?" I asked.

Jess thought a moment, then cocked his head to one side, deciding. "Here's to you writing for the _fuckin' New York Times,_" he began, "and to reuniting, no matter the circumstance."

I smiled gently at him, and met his glass with mine.

"So," he said after we had each taken long sips of our Teas, "spill."

I laughed. "Sheesh, let a girl get a few drinks in her first," I teased, swiping at the condensation on my glass with the pad of my thumb.

"Alright, fine. We'll start with something else. How the hell did you end up reviewing live performances?" he asked, slightly incredulous. "I thought you wanted to be a journalist."

I frowned. "I _am_ a journalist."

"Come on, you know what I mean." Jess tilted his head towards me knowingly. "You wanted to do front-page stuff."

"Well, lots of things change in eight and a half years, Jess," I sighed.

The corner of his mouth twitched and he shook his head, sitting back again. "You didn't answer my question."

I took a sip of my Tea and swallowed. "It was kind of a fluke, really. I was asked to cover for the lady who usually reviewed shows when she went on mat leave. When she decided not to come back, they offered me the column permanently. I enjoyed it, so I took it. And I'm glad I did, because if I hadn't, I wouldn't have met James."

"Oh, yeah?" There went his eyebrow, up towards his hairline.

"Yeah," I confirmed, gaining momentum. "He was working backstage on this show I reviewed Off-Broadway. He gave me a tour of the theatre and charmed my pants off. The rest is history."

Jess took a sip of his drink. "And you said he's Irish?"

I nodded. "From Dublin."

Jess stared at his glass for a moment, as if lost in thought. When he met my eyes, they were hard, serious. "He a good guy? I mean...he treat you right?" His voice was low, honey dark.

I didn't look away. "Yeah. He is. He does."

He nodded. "Good." Then, "So what's the problem?"

I frowned. "Problem?"

"Yeah." His voice got that raspy tone to it. "You said you needed to talk about something. I assume it's about your boyfriend. Sorry, fiancé." His famous smirk finally made an appearance. "Trouble in paradise, huh?"

My mouth fell open. "His mother _died._"

"That's not all, though. Come on, Rory. I know first hand what you're like when you're mad at a guy."

To my dismay, I felt heat rise in my face. "I'm not _mad _at James."

"Uh-huh." God, the look on his face was infuriating. A cross between smug and amused. "What'd he have to say about your meeting up with me?" My blood boiled. One look at my face was all the confirmation he needed. "Ah. You didn't tell him."

I sat back and folded my arms across my chest. I wasn't going to give Jess the satisfaction of knowing James in fact was ignorant to Jess' entire existence. There had been a close call at Luke's Diner when we had been looking over Luke's bulletin board, which had a few pictures of his family tacked onto it. Jess' employee of the month picture from Walmart was there among them, which Luke had kept as a keepsake or means of taunting Jess whenever he came to town, and James had pointed it out, asked who it was. Before Luke had had a chance to speak I had suggested we get more pancakes, and James had thankfully forgotten all about the picture after that.

Sitting there in that bar with Jess, though, I suddenly wished I had been honest with James about all my past relationships. We had had a long conversation three years ago, shortly after we started dating, about our respective exes and I had just been unable to talk about Jess. It was strange; I'd had no problem discussing Logan, who had been my most recent heartbreak before James, but Jess was a whole different story. Jess wasn't just a heartbreak, he was a piece of my heart that had remained attached but had never fully healed.

Now there we were. I wasn't married. James was on another continent indefinitely. And Jess was right across from me, looking sexier than ever. My hand clenched around my glass. "What about you?" I challenged, finally meeting his gaze. "Are you seeing anybody?"

His lips curled. "We're not here to talk about me."

I exhaled loudly, exasperated. "We're having a _conversation. _They generally tend to go both ways."

"Yeah, but see, I don't really want to talk about my personal life with you," he said sharply. "You show up in Philly, you let me kiss you, make me think—then you're gone again. _Eight and half years_ go by, you don't call, you don't write. And then an invitation to your _wedding_ randomly shows up in my PO box, after all that time? Forgive me, Rory, but I don't think being friends is really in the cards at this point. Stop trying so hard."

He might as well have slapped me. Reaching for my purse, I blindly tossed a handful of change onto the table.

He sighed. "Rory—"

My vision blurred as I got up and stormed out of the bar, and I felt my face scrunch as the tears began to fall. It wasn't until I got out into the street that I realized I had no idea how to get back to my hotel from here. I reached into my pocket for my phone, but it was empty. Panicking, I dug through my purse. Coming up empty-handed, I groaned, picturing my phone sitting helplessly on the table inside the bar, left behind in my haste to get out.

Swallowing my pride, I turned on my heel to go back for it, but Jess was already emerging from behind the door, my phone in his hand. Wordlessly, he took a few steps forward and held it out to me. I snatched it from him, sniffing, and casually brushed a hand across my face, humiliated that he'd caught me crying. "That was so uncalled for," I muttered.

"Was it?" he asked, but the bite was gone from his voice. "Because I've been wanting to say that for a _really _long time."

I bit my trembling lower lip. "Did you mean it?"

"It was all fact, Rory."

"Even the part about not being friends?"

"Do you _want _to be my friend?" he shot back, taking another step towards me. He was now at arm's length; I could touch him if I reached out. "Cuz to me, it seems like you don't really know what you want."

"That's because I don't," I admitted quietly, hanging my head. "You know me too well."

He shoved his hands in his pockets, leaning his head down towards me. "I'm sorry. I was a dick."

"Asshole," I corrected, a slight smile escaping onto my lips.

He rolled his eyes, though a hint of a smirk showed through. "Semantics." Hesitantly, he reached out and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder, ducking his head to meet my eyes with his. "Wanna go back inside?"

I scoffed. "After my dramatic exit? Hardly."

He chuckled. "No one in there gives a shit. Besides, I told Donna we'd be back."

"How'd you know I'd want to go back in there with you?" I asked incredulously.

"It's like you said." He slung his arm around my shoulders and steered me towards the door. "I know you too well."

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"Is your favourite colour still green?"

I couldn't help but laugh at the simplicity of the question. "Really?"

Rory giggled along with me. "Hey, be impressed that I even remembered that."

Rory and I were now well into our third jug of mojitos and in the midst of a heated game of twenty questions; although, I was sure we had surpassed twenty ages ago. We just went back and forth. One of us would ask a question, then we would both have to answer it, then the other would ask and so on.

I smirked at her as I took a long sip of my mojito, enjoying the increasing buzz I had going on as I gazed at her through the dim light. There was a delightful flush spreading over her neck and chest, a sure sign that she was tipsy, at least. "I think my favourite colour is purple now," I answered honestly.

She looked genuinely surprised. "Really?"

I nodded, downing the remainder of what was in my glass. Reaching for the jug to refill, I said, "And I am."

"You are what?"

"Impressed. That you remember that." I raised my glass and clinked it against hers. "I'm not gonna even pretend that I remember yours."

"It was blue," she said. "Still is, I think. Your turn."

At this point, I was too tipsy to really contemplate my questions anymore. "How did you find out that I'd left?"

She frowned. "What do you mean?"

"When I left Stars Hollow. After the accident."

She sipped her drink thoughtfully. When she put the glass down, she stared at her hands. "My mom told me," she replied quietly. "Luke told her. After he saw that your stuff was gone."

"Huh."

"It was a long time ago," she deadpanned, waving it away with her hand. "Ten years."

That concept alone baffled me. I ran a hand over my hair; I kept forgetting how short it was now. "Wow."

"You broke my heart," she said.

I nodded. "I know."

"Then I broke yours."

"Yup."

"Twice?"

I looked at her, feeling the room tilt with my gaze as I cocked my head to one side. "Twice?"

"Well, in Philly...?" She was playing with her straw, sticking it in amongst the ice cubes and crushed mint at the bottom of her glass.

"Is this your question? Are you asking if I was still in love with you when you came to Truncheon?"

She shrugged in response.

I returned the shrugging gesture. "No, I wouldn't say I was. You didn't break my heart, then. Not in the romantic sense, anyway."

"Romantic sense?"

"Well, awhile before, when I went to the bar with you and that guy—"

"Logan."

"Whatever," I grunted. "I just saw you not being you. In a way, that...broke my heart. The thing in Philly just pissed me off, frankly. And added to my disappointment. I really hoped I'd talked some sense into you about that guy."

She was staring intently into her glass, but at least she'd stopped fiddling with her straw. "You seemed to expect something to happen," she said quietly. She looked at me, then, her eyes searching my face.

Smirking, I took a sip of my drink. "Yeah, you could say that."

"You kissed me."

"Uh-huh."

"That what you were expecting?"

I scoffed. "Not entirely."

It dawned on her, then. She dropped her gaze, bringing her hands down into her lap. "Oh."

I stared at her a moment, challenging her to look at me, but she wouldn't. Sighing, I rolled her eyes while she couldn't see. "Like you said. Was a long time ago."

"Did you really think I'd do that?" she asked, her voice a harsh whisper.

The corner of my mouth lifted. "It's my turn, now." She glared at me, lips pressed together. "First, you gotta answer your own question."

"My question?"

"Were you still in love with me when you came to Philly?"

She was solid in her response. "No."

I nodded. "Okay. Still my turn."

"Go for it."

"Were you still a virgin?"

Her eyes widened and the flush on her chest spread quickly to her cheeks. "When?" When I gave her a knowing look, she pressed her lips together. Surpressing a smile, she shook her head.

"Well you were with that guy. Makes sense." I shrugged. It really wasn't a big deal.

"Were you?"

I grinned at her provocatively. "Was _I_ a virgin?"

She rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat. I delighted in the sight of uncomfortable Rory. "Well obviously...with Shane, but...I mean, were you ever, while we were together? While we knew each-other?"

I put my glass down, watching the condensation roll over my fingers. I exhaled loudly. "I lost my virginity when I was fourteen," I said softly.

"Huh." I could see her biting the inside of her cheek as she pondered for a moment. "It's weird. We never talked about this stuff."

I smirked. "Still makes you blush."

"I blush easily," she countered, a smile breaking onto her face. "Really, though? Fourteen?"

"Hey, I was bored, she was horny. Wasn't rocket science."

"Was she a girlfriend?"

I shook my head, biting my lip. "I never really had a girlfriend before you. Not a serious one."

"Who was she, then?"

I raised an eyebrow at her. "You're seriously wasting a question on who I lost my virginity to?"

She smiled. "Yes I am."

I sighed. My drunk brain was seriously outweighing my sober one at this point, but my sober one was fighting for control. I stared at the candle on the table as I responded. "She was a neighbour. We used to hang out whenever my mom wasn't home."

"Oh?" Rory pressed, leaning her cheek onto her closed fist, her body loose with alcohol.

My cheek twitched as words came tumbling out of my mouth. "I guess you could say she was my babysitter?"

Her expression shifted from amusement to confusion. "Babysitter? At fourteen?"

"I got into trouble a lot; Liz didn't trust me." I downed the rest of my drink, half a glass, all at once. "Her name was Emma. She was, I think...maybe nineteen? Twenty?"

"_Twenty_?" Rory gasped, a hand coming up to her mouth.

"Relax," I grunted, suddenly very uncomfortable with all this. "'S not like I didn't want to."

"Jess, that's...you were a minor. That's statutory—"

"My turn," I snapped, reaching suddenly for the jug. I nearly sent it flying into Rory's lap. She squeaked in surprise and caught it. A silence fell over our table as she poured the remainder of the jug's contents into my glass.

When she put the jug down, she said quietly, "Don't you want me to answer the question?"

I nearly winced, but found myself nodding.

"It was Dean."

I just kept nodding, my brain rushing to catch up with her words and their meaning. But all I said was, "Your turn. I got nothing."

She almost seemed disappointed that I hadn't given more of a reaction. She thought for a moment. "You never answered my question from earlier."

"That narrows it down."

"You never said if you were seeing someone?" She reached for the jug, then, to refill her empty glass. The jug was now almost empty, and I debated the likelihood of ordering another being a good idea. I could tell she was nearly drunk, and I myself was definitely feeling slippery and groggy. I was seeing someone? Nora. Right?

Before I could respond, a bell rang out from the bar area. Rory and I looked up to see Donna calling out to the crowds that it was last call. Rory flicked her wrist out and checked her watch, her eyes growing wide. "Holy shit, it's nearly midnight."

"Hey, the city never sleeps, so you don't have to either," I reminded her, but she was already reaching into her purse for her wallet.

"No, I should get going. I've got the show tomorrow night and I know I'm going to need all day to nurse the hangover I'm bound to have." She tossed a few bills onto the table, enough to cover all our drinks and a generous tab.

I groaned. "You don't have to—"

"Don't worry about it," she cut me off, smiling.

Before she could get up, I reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling her. She looked at me expectantly. I took a deep breath. "I _am_ seeing someone, Rory," I said quietly. "Her name's Nora. I've been—we've been together for five years. We live together."

She looked dumbfounded for a moment, but then it was gone, replaced by a pleasant smile. "Five years, wow." But that smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "She must be pretty special."

I nodded, smiling, thinking of Nora. Then I remembered how fucking mad she was going to be. Cuz I was with Rory. "She is."

"Are you—I mean." She bit her lip, hard. "Are you going to marry her, do you think?"

I sighed, closing my eyes. Before my head could hit the table I felt Rory's gentle hands holding me, lifting me from the seat. I was barely aware of what was going on; she was leading me out of the bar, into the warm night air. Once the fresh air hit me I sobered slightly, and felt her hands still on my upper arms, steadying me, saw her amused smile as she stared into my drunk eyes.

I looked up at the stars, smiling at them as if they were old friends. "I would marry her," I said finally, to the stars. "But she's _toooooo_ young."

"Okay, Jess," she said in the tone of voice everyone uses when dealing with a drunk idiot, or a five-year-old. She hailed a cab and dragged me into it. "Where do you live? I'll take you home."

"I didn't eat much today," I told her seriously. "That's why I'm so blitzed. Normally I drink way more."

"I'm sure, Jess. The nice cab driver needs your address."

I snuggled my head against her shoulder as I sleepily mumbled my address to her.

Before I knew it, she was dragging me out of the cab, telling the guy to wait while she brought me up to my apartment. I was protesting all the while, Rory, I can handle it, I got it, it's ok, I'm a big-boy I can get myself home.

I was on my couch, and my shoes were off. The throw blanket was so soft; I snuggled into it, sighing contentedly. I opened my eyes and the room was spinning so I shut them again. For some reason, the garbage can from the kitchen was on the floor beside me. Rory's hair tickled my face. _Rory's hair?_ Yes, Rory's hair. She was kissing my forehead. I felt her warm lips, right between my eyebrows. I reached for her; she smelled good. She hurt my nose when I pulled her to me, but it was okay because I felt the warmth of her mouth over mine, her breaths becoming shorter as her tongue darted out to play. Her hair was fine and smooth, running between my fingers, and my lap was warm with her butt, my hands full with her breasts, and both were so soft. Quiet grunts came from me and short little moans from her. I threw my arms around her, just wanting her _closer, _because I was feeling really good, right then, even though none of these things were really making sense to me, these blurry flashes of images and sounds straight out of a fantasy.

Then she was, all gone, and she was swearing, and, stumbling around, in the dark, and then I heard my front door open, and close. I rolled over and just caught a glimpse of the stars through my windows before sleep came and took me away.

* * *

><p>AN: Review for drunk Literati? Pleeeeaaassseeee?!


	8. The Missing Phone & The Blame Game

A/N: Tonight, I watched the series finale of Gilmore Girls. And I cried. But I also squealed (loudly) when Luke and Lorelai finally got back together. Anyhow, now that I have nothing to do with life but explore the rest of Netflix for other series I can binge watch, here's a new chapter! Enjoy!

P.S. Some light mature content ahead! You have been warned!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Eight – The Missing Phone & The Blame Game_

**Rory**

I could tell Jess was pretty smashed when he could no longer focus fully on my face. His eyelids were drooping and his words were slurring. I had to admit, I did not expect the night to go this way. I'd always thought Jess would be the kind of guy to put away drink after drink no sweat, but there he was, practically falling asleep at the table, even after all his talk earlier about drinking all kinds of booze. I wondered if maybe that hot dog we'd had in Times Square was all he'd eaten today. In any case, I made quick work of getting him out of the bar, hailing a cab once we got outside.

Not that I was sober, or anything. I had a hard time keeping him upright, what with him leaning on me and the world spinning every time I blinked. But me and booze got along just fine as long as we agreed that I wouldn't go past my breaking point. Lorelai could say I couldn't hold my booze as much as she wanted, but it was a lie to a certain point. Once I took the seventh or eighth drink, I was into the territory of the point of no return. I had had six standard drinks—I'd counted—and was on the knife's edge, but definitely not too drunk to get Jess and me to our respective homes safely. I'd lost count of how many Jess had had; I was pretty sure one of the jugs we'd ordered had been entirely dispensed into his glass.

I held Jess at arm's length to steady him before we got in the cab. The city lights shone in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, his crooked mouth slightly open in awe, as if he had never seen the night sky before. To me, the sky tonight was nothing fascinating; you could barely even see the stars with New York's lights blocking the way. But he seemed to be searching for something up there, and I wasn't about to break his train of thought now, especially since he had just revealed a rather important piece of information to me.

_Five years _he had been with this girl. And he only mentioned it now? I had a million questions going through my mind, and I only wished he'd told me earlier on in the night so I would have had a chance to ask them all. Just when I thought I _got_ Jess Mariano—that I understood him, to a certain point—he threw me for a loop again. It had been all I could do to plaster what I knew was an insincere smile on my face when the words finally came out of his mouth. It was the second metaphorical slap in the face that night, and this time, the sting wasn't going away as quickly.

When I finally got Jess in the cab he curled up next to me, his head on my shoulder, and promptly fell asleep. He was murmuring something I couldn't make out. I felt awkward and upset and kind of embarrassed, but as the cab took us over the Brooklyn Bridge I stretched my arm around him and tucked him closer, counting my blessings with these rare moments of intimacy with him while they lasted. Even though everything emotional between us had morphed and shifted over the years, the physical reaction I got when I touched him was exactly the same. It was easy and familiar and too comforting for my own good. I knew this. But I couldn't resist because he looked so cute and content in my arms, oblivious and sleeping and drunk.

Getting him awake and out of the cab and up the stairs to his apartment was a feat in and of itself. I knew I would be sore in the morning and probably pulled some muscles lugging him around, and I had to stick my hand into the pocket of his shorts to get his keys. Rolling my eyes towards the ceiling, I prayed that my hand would _only _come into contact with his keys.

As I turned the key in the lock, fear shot through me like a bolt of electricity. What if his girlfriend was home? What was I to say? _Hey, I'm Rory, I'm Jess' ex-girlfriend from a million years ago; we just went out for a few but I guess he had a few too many! Ha-ha, anyway, here is your obliterated boyfriend. BYEEE!_

Knowing there was nothing else I could do, I pushed the door open.

The place was dark and silent. I paused, listening for any sign of life, but all I could hear was my own laboured breathing and Jess' quiet mumblings. Figuring the coast was clear, I fumbled for a light switch, but at that moment Jess pitched forwards and nearly fell right into what looked like a glass coffee table.

"_Jess!_" I hissed, stopping his progress with my own body. His nose collided with mine and I swore loudly.

"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry," he ranted, placing a hand on either side of my face and inspecting the damage with glazed eyes. "Are you okay?" His face was merely inches from mine.

"Yes, Jess, I'm fine. Come on, let's get you on the couch." I shook his hands away and tried to pull him towards the couch, squinting for any other potential obstacles. The wall of windows allowed city light to stream in, but it was still difficult to see much. Finally, I got him to lie down on the couch, and knelt to take off his shoes.

"You're beautiful, Rory," he said slowly, gazing at me sleepily as I took his shoes off one by one. "You know that? So beautiful."

"Shut up, Jess," I snapped. Squinting, I found my way towards the kitchen, in search of a bowl or bucket I could place by his head in case he hurled.

He was calling after me, almost incoherently. "I'msorryRory. Ijusswanyoutobehappy. You deserve tobehappy."

Not able to answer him, I found a plastic garbage bin in the kitchen and dragged it over to the couch, placing it safely within hurling distance. Noticing a throw blanket over the back of the couch, I tugged it out and over him, and almost smiled as he snuggled right in. Seeing him there, helpless and cute, some of my anger and irritation melted away. I knelt in front of him and gently brushed the pad of my thumb over his forehead, just a simple, gentle caress, and impulsively leaned in to brush my lips chastely where my thumb had just been.

He sighed contentedly. "Rory?"

"Yeah, Jess?"

"I really missed you," he slurred, then he pulled my face to his and kissed me.

_I was kissing Jess. Holy. Shit. _My immediate reaction was to pull back, but despite his inebriation his grip was firm. He held me there, his lips moving sloppily over my own, his hand tangling in my hair. All I could think was how uncomfortable I was, still on my knees and bent over him at an awkward angle, so I shifted to sit up a bit. He seemed to take my movement as a sign to take it further, and suddenly his tongue was at my lips, asking for entrance.

He was so drunk. _I _was drunk. I knew how totally _wrong _this was, but I found myself blanking as to why. I knew there was a reason, but the electricity running through my body was overpowering, and I found myself responding primitively to Jess' touch. I gasped and opened my mouth to him, tangling my tongue with his, hot and wanting, as he pulled me into his lap. Stradling him, I ran my hands over the planes of his chest, feeling the taut muscles underneath his t-shirt, feeling the swell of his biceps and the veins protruding from his forearms. His own hands were everywhere, traveling from my bottom up my sides and finally to cup my breasts, which ellicited a moan from somewhere within me. He grunted in response, a noise which sent a jolt of energy right down to my womanhood.

"Rory..." he groaned, his hands wandering low on my hips, his breath hot on my skin as he planted wet kisses along my jawline.

His voice brought the moment to stunning clarity, and I broke away from Jess, panting and wide-eyed. His eyes were closed, his hands quickly going slack around me, and I knew he was moments away from passing out. I hauled myself out of his arms, off his lap, and gracelessly rolled onto the floor, knocking some things off the coffee table as I went, landing on my ass with a small shriek. Fumbling around in the dark, I grabbed my shoes and purse, which had been tossed haphazardly onto the floor near the front door, and let myself out. By the time I shut the door, I was certain that Jess was fast asleep.

My cabbie sure was pissed when I stepped out onto the street. I hadn't paid him for the ride to Jess' place, yet, after all, and he had been waiting. Of course, while philandering with Jess upstairs it had started to rain. I sprinted to the cab and threw myself into the backseat, apologizing profusely, assured that I probably looked a drunken mess, and that the cabbie was definitely judging me. Even more pissed that we had to go all the way back to Manhattan to get to my hotel, I wondered whether the cabbie was secretly plotting my demise. I made a mental note to give him the biggest tip of his career.

It was nearly three in the morning by the time I finally stumbled into my hotel room, shivering like a leaf after having been caught in the summer rain. I tossed my purse onto the bed and followed it with my own body, letting my shoes drop off my feet on their own. My hands went to my pockets, searching for my phone to check if James had called. Finding my pockets empty, I groped for my purse and dragged it to eye level, but one glance inside told me I had fucked up even _more _tonight, if that were even possible.

I could picture my phone, then, sitting helpessly on Jess' coffee table, as he slept soundly beside it.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

When I woke, I wondered for a fleeting moment if I were, in fact, dead. I had been hit by a truck and died, I had to have been, because certainly there was no other explanation for how I felt at that moment. But that moment passed, and I was hit with an even worse reality: the hangover of hangovers. I had definitely been more hungover in the past, but this combined with the lingering sense of _wrong _which clung to me like summer sweat literally made me feel like my head was being crushed under a sumo wrestler's heel. I couldn't yet wrap my head around why I felt this way; images of last night were flashing one by one before my eyes, but I couldn't make sense of any of it.

Reluctantly, I pried my eyes open, but immediately regretted that decision, hissing as the morning sun blinded me. There was an awful crick in my neck; as I stretched I finally gained a sense of where exactly I even was.

_How the hell did I get on my couch?_

The furthest moment I could remember from the previous night was the stars as I gazed up at them outside Donna's pub with Rory. _Rory—_

Oh, _fuck._

I sat up suddenly, panicking, my eyes glancing once around the seemingly empty apartment before nausea overwhelmed me. Noticing the garbage bin inexplicably waiting next to the couch, I leaned over it in preparation to spew, but nothing came of the impulse. I hung there, panting above the can, just waiting for it, as my mind furiously worked to put the puzzle pieces together. Figuring I had time to make it to the toilet, I staggered up from the couch, the room spinning around me, and stumbled to the bathroom, folding myself over the toilet as my body finally convulsed.

Once done emptying my guts, I reached for the shower and cranked it on, stripped, and lay down in the tub, letting the lukewarm water soak me through.

I must have fallen asleep, briefly. When I woke, the water was ice cold, and I was shivering violently, probably half from the cold water and half from dehydration.

Drying my hair with a towel and pulling my briefs back on, I wandered back out into the living area, collapsing onto the couch with a loud groan. I threw an arm over my face, shielding my sensitive eyes from the brilliant morning sunshine. I ached for a cigarette, but I knew they were still in the pocket of my shorts, which were lying crumpled on the floor of my bathroom, and that was just _too far away _right now.

I opened my mouth and yawned, feeling the need to vomit again when I tasted stale alcohol and sleep on my breath. Realizing how quiet it was, I managed to choke out an awful, raspy, "Nora?"

The apartment was empty. I wondered fleetingly if she had gone to the Café already, but judging by the angle the sunlight was streaming in, it was still way too early in the morning. Had she been here last night?

Frantically, I attempted to put the pieces of last night that I remembered together. I remembered being at the bar, pissing Rory off, following her outside to give her her phone because she had left it when she stormed out, convincing her to come back in, ordering several pitchers of mojitos..._ugh, mojitos. _I was usually strictly a beer person, but when Rory announced that she drank _anything, _I couldn't resist the urge to beat her at her own game. I also remembered talking about our favourite colours, asking questions back and forth, we talked about my virginity, her virginity...after that, I remembered looking at the stars, and her smiling up at me, half amused, half exasperated. I vaguely remembered being in a taxi. Then I had a brief memory of being on my couch at home, an even briefer image of Rory nearby me, kissing my forehead? Then—I _couldn't remember. Something _had happened, because the pit in my stomach was too deep for last night to have been all innocent. Had I puked on her? Said something embarrassing? _Told her I loved her?_

Forcing myself to sit up, I glanced around. The TV remotes were on the floor, along with a couple of my books. The throw blanket was a tangled heap at the foot of the couch. No sign of Rory, anywhere. Then, on the coffee table, my cell phone's screen flashed to life, buzzing violently, shaking the whole table.

Lying back on the couch, I blindly reached for the phone, pressing accept and holding it to my ear without looking at the caller ID, certain that it had to be Nora calling. "'Llo?"

"Uh...hallo?" It was a man's voice. It voice sounded funny. "Who's that?"

"You called _me_, man," I grunted, irritated. _If this was a fucking telemarketer, I swear to god_—

"Who the hell is this?" the guy asked loudly; I winced as a headache suddenly shot through my skull. "Where's Rory?"

"Rory?" I rubbed a hand across my face, perpetually confused.

"Yeah, wanker, Rory! Who the fuck are you?"

I floundered for a minute, just trying to make an ounce of sense of the situation. "Uh. I'm. This is. Jess."

"Alright, _Jess,_" the guy roared. "Now why the fuck are ya answering my finacé's phone?"

_Fiancé? _What the...

Rory.

Fiancé—

_Oh, fuck._

I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it. So similar to mine—a Samsung S4 in a black Otter Box—but with one tiny difference in the detail, a detail I had overlooked, a detail which was now about to cost me what I was sure would be dearly. Where my phone was black, this one was stunnigly white. _Rory's fucking phone._

Putting the phone back to my ear, I addressed who I could only assume was James. "Listen, man, there's been a misunderstanding. See, Rory left her phone here, I guess, and—"

"Where is _here_?" he snarled.

I ran a hand back and forth quickly over my sort hair. I knew how this looked. If I were in his shoes I'd probably already have a deathnote out for the dude. "Look, I know how this looks—"

"_Do ya?_" he snapped. "Cuz tah me this is seemin' pretty fucked up, if we're being honest."

"It's—it's not what you think," I said quickly. "I'm her, uh, friend." Fuck, why did I hesitate?

"The _fuck_ you are!" James roared, his voice climbing to an impossibly high octave. "Fucking put Rory on the phone right now!"

"Dude, relax," I spat, really starting to get pissed now. "She's not here. She left her phone here. We were up late last night and she must have forgot it when she left to go back to her hotel."

There was a long pause where I could hear James just breathing loudly. "_Hotel?_"

I blanched, slapping a hand over my face. Oh, _Rory. _Had she seriously neglected to mention to James that she was even _in New York? _She had said she hadn't told James she was meeting up with me, but now how the fuck was I supposed to explain to the guy why she was here if she hadn't _told him? _I silently thanked the heavens that the dude was on a different continent, or I could very well be fearing for my life at the moment.

I sighed. "Uh, listen man, I don't know what to tell you. I thought you knew. She's in New York. She got a job with the _New York Times._"

He started to speak a few times, obviously struggling with this information. "Ya still haven't told me who the fuck _you are._"

"Yes, I did. I'm Jess. I'm an old friend of Rory's. We met up last night because she was in town. I live in Brooklyn. She's staying at a hotel in _Manhattan_," I added to put more distance between us.

James scoffed loudly. "She's never mentioned a Jess before," he snapped.

I closed my eyes slowly, taking a deep breath. She hadn't just not told James she was meeting up with me, she hadn't told him about me _at all. _Oh, this was _so _fucked! I tried to keep my voice as even as possible as I spoke. "I don't know what to say about that. We've known each-other since we were teenagers. In Stars Hollow. Her stepdad is my uncle. I was even invited to your wedding." I took another deep breath, trying to stop my hands from shaking. "Seriously, man, it's a totally innocent situation here. I know how this looks, but believe me, nothing happened. She was here, she left, she forgot her phone. I'll get it to her ASAP."

"Don't you go near her!" James yelled.

"I have her _phone,_" I sneered, refraining from adding something like jackass on the end. "I have to give it back to her, unless you'd rather _not_ speak with her?"

Another long pause. "I don't give a fuck," he growled, his accented voice loaded with venom, and then the line went dead.

I moved the phone and stared at it. There were half a dozen missed calls on there, most from James, some from someone named Rufus. A handful of unread text messages, which I didn't read. Carefully, I went through the phone, trying to find a clue as to which hotel Rory was staying at. All I wanted to do was get this fucking thing out of my possesion as soon as possible, and it was about to die, too. I opened her e-mails; _Bingo. _Hotel confirmation receipt. She was staying right around the corner from Times Square. I groaned, trying to figure how long it was going to take me to get to the island on a weekday morning.

Scrambling up from the sofa, I went to collect my cigarettes and my cell phone from my shorts in the bathroom. Shoving open a window in the living room, I lit the cigarette, blowing the smoke out the window as I unlocked my phone. Besides some work-related messages, there was only one text from Nora:

_Going to Natalie and Jay's tonight. Don't wait up. We need to talk._

I breathed a sigh of relief. Natalie was Nora's friend from college; with her boyfriend, Jay, the four of us often hung out as a group. I now knew where Nora was, that she was safe, albeit probably pissed. But, checking the time of the text, I saw that it had been sent before I'd met up with Rory. Why would she have been pissed so early in the night—?

_Oh._

Rory had gone to Café Livre. So Nora _had _seen her. _Fuck._

Knowing Nora, she probably would go right from Nat and Jay's to work, avoiding me until the evening, knowing this was my day off. I would have time to go to Manhattan, give Rory back her phone, come back to the loft and forget this whole thing ever happened with plenty of time to prepare for when Nora got home. I even considered going out and getting ingredients for a nice dinner, maybe some flowers. Some serious grovelling was going to be involved.

I climbed the stairs to the bedroom and lazily pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, slipped my feet into some flip-flops, and grabbed my aviators from my nightstand, certain I would need them in the glaring sunlight in my condition. I popped a couple aspirin, for good measure. I went to the kitchen to fill up a water bottle, which I downed once before refilling, and went to collect my keys. I opened my front door to leave and my shriek was met with a higher squeak of surprise.

Rory was standing at my door, her fist raised to knock. She bit her lip, taking in my disastrous appearance.

Wordlessly, I left the door open and retreated to the coffee table, grabbing her phone (only then realizing I had been about to leave without it), which I then brought to her and shoved into her hand. She looked at it guiltily. "I guess you know why I'm here."

"Yeah," I snapped, rage suddenly flaring up and boiling my blood. I pushed the door closed behind her as she stepped into my apartment. "You know, next time you're going to play lies and deceit with your fiancé, could you at least give me a heads up so I don't get ripped a new asshole when the guy phones you in the morning?"

Her eyes went wide, shocked at my aggression. "What are you talking about?"

"James called. He wasn't too impressed when I answered, as you can _probably_ imagine."

"Why did you answer?" she demanded, her brows knitting together as colour pooled in her cheeks.

I shook my head, backing away from her a few steps. "Oh, no, don't you dare blame this on me. I'm hungover is fuck, I heard the phone ring and I just grabbed it, I thought it was mine. And then I received the third degree from your fucking boyfriend and then I was left trying to explain why I was answering your phone—oh, and_ then_ I had to explain why he didn't know you were _in_ New York to begin with, let alone that he didn't seem to even know about _me_ at_ all_—which of course, I couldn't even _begin_ to fucking explain! What are you doing, Rory? Why are you being so dishonest with this guy? Weren't you supposed to marry him this weekend?"

She practically had steam coming out of her ears. "That's none of your business," she snarled, but her blue eyes betrayed her. They were filled with obvious regret.

"Well when I get fucking chewed out at eight in the morning by some guy I've never even _met, _then yeah, it fucking becomes my business," I shot back, crossing my arms over my chest and hooking my thumbs outside my armpits.

"You know, you're really one to talk about dishonesty after your behaviour last night," Rory fumed, matching my posture by folding her own arms. "Let me guess—you don't _remember_ anything, right?"

"Don't turn this around on me," I spat, taking a step towards her.

She rolled her eyes. "Figures," she mumbled. She turned to go but I seized her arm, turning her back to look at me.

"_Enlighten_ me," I growled, staring down at her. Seeing the flash of fear in her eyes, I released her arm. and took a step backwards. I gestured towards the couch, and we both perched awkwardly on the edge of it, a good two feet apart. "What happened?" I asked, trying to keep my voice as low as possible. My head was still pounding.

"You got wasted," she began, stating the obvious. "You were practically passing out on me and I had to drag you up here. Then you wouldn't stop mumbling about how much you missed me and saying that I was beautiful and deserved to be happy and other bullshit like that. And then, you—" She stopped, shaking her head.

"Then I what?" I prompted, ducking my head in an attempt to catch her gaze with mine, which she avoided like the plague. Her hands were tangling nervously in her lap. "What did I do, Rory?"

Finally, she looked me right in the eyes. "You kissed me," she said quietly.

Before I could think of anything to say in response, I heard a key turn in the lock on the front door. Panic flashed through my body like a lightning bolt and I instantly scooted another half a foot further away from Rory on the couch. I knew I had a split second between the lock hitting home and the door being shoved open to come up with a viable excuse for Rory's presence before Nora came through the door, but my mind _ever so helpfully_ was drawing a big fat blank.

Nora was already speaking as she stepped over the threshold into the apartment, balancing her keys and her travel coffee tumbler. "Oh my god, you would not believe the cab driver I had on the way here—" She stopped dead when she saw Rory and me seated on the couch at a distance which under any other circumstance would be considered appropriate. For a moment she just stared at us, and then fixed her withering gaze on me. For once, I couldn't read her expression. She was a blank canvas, and I Jackson Pollock; the wrong words could cause her temporarily composed façade to implode.

"Nora," I began as casually as I could muster. "This is Rory. Rory this is Nora...my girlfriend."

Nora's green eyes were molten. "I believe we've met," she said icily. Her gaze shifted to Rory. "Hi, Rory." I felt a chill in the room that was completely unrelated to the open window.

"Hi." Rory's voice was tiny. She fidgeted, her knuckles turning white in her lap.

Nora's smile didn't reach her burning eyes. "I see you've found Jess."

"So it would seem," Rory replied, attempting to return the smile.

There was an awkward pause. I rubbed a fist against my opposite open palm, wracking my brain for words, any words, really, to fill the silence. Finally, Nora beat me to it. "I'm going to make breakfast," she said, tossing her stuff on the kitchen counter. "Would you like some breakfast, Rory?"

"No," Rory said, "I should probably get going, actually. Thanks for the book, Jess." She quickly reached out and grabbed a random book off my coffee table.

"Yeah. No problem." I felt like I couldn't breathe. We stood and I walked Rory to the door; she tucked the book under her arm and pocketed her phone.

"It was nice to meet you, Nora," Rory said, smiling a bit more genuinely, now.

Nora barely turned her head from the pantry. "You, too."

Rory gave me a look before she left, and my heart sank. I couldn't ask her now, but I somehow got the feeling I wouldn't see her again before she left town. That fact hit me harder than I ever could have imagined, and I didn't entirely know why.

I shut the door softly behind Rory and lingered there for a moment, letting my head rest against the door. I could feel Nora's shoulder turned coldly against me as she banged around the kitchen, bringing out tools and ingredients seemingly at random. Taking a deep breath, I turned towards her. "Nora," I began slowly. "It was nothing."

"You know, Jess, I'm really not in the mood for your bullshit excuses right now," she snapped, throwing a cabinet door closed after removing a mixing bowl.

"I should have told you she was here," I offered, walking round the island so as to get a more direct view of her.

"Yeah," Nora spat, her voice acid, "preferably _before _you went out for _drinks_ with her." She began furiously cutting cheese on the cutting board meant for onions, but I could hardly correct her on that front now. "You both look like shit. How trashed did you get?"

"Nora, stop," I groaned as her chopping became more aggressive. "You're going to take a finger off. Stop it and talk to me."

"I have nothing to say." But she did stop chopping. She threw the knife down and tossed a dish towel at me. "I'm not hungry. I'm going to take a shower."

I caught her around the other side of the island before she could reach the bathroom, placing my hands gently on her shoulders. "Nora." I tried to look into her eyes but she was avoiding my gaze, keeping it firmly trailed on the floor. I ducked my head to try and catch it. "Hey. Look at me." Finally, she did. In her eyes now was just hurt, maybe some betrayal. Her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. "Nora, nothing happened. We had a few drinks last night, talked, caught up, and she left her phone in the cab. She came by to collect it from me—and to borrow that book. That's it. She was here all of fifteen minutes."

"Why didn't you _tell_ me she was _here_?" Nora asked, her voice gaining more force again. "Why didn't you say it was _her_ you were going to see? You _know _I would have been cool with it if you'd been honest with me. You know what—I can't deal with this right now." She shook my hands off her shoulders and blew past me towards the bathroom. "I had a shitty, shitty night and I don't want to think about this."

"Nora, come on." I followed her, standing in the doorway to the bathroom as she stripped off her business attire, leaving herself standing in her camisole and underwear. "Please don't be mad at me. I don't ever mean to purposefully hide things from you."

"Then _don't,_" she snapped, her voice climbing an octave. "We have to be honest with each-other, Jess! I know you have a history with Rory. Don't make it harder for me to trust you when you're with someone who broke your heart."

I wanted to tell her that I had broken her heart, too—more than once—but I decided it wouldn't help my present situation. I stepped further into the bathroom as she reached to turn the water on. The shower hissed to life as steam began to fill the room. "All that stuff that happened with me and Rory?" I began as she let her blood red hair down from the bun. "It ended years ago. Eight and a half years ago, to be exact. I haven't spoken to her since she came to see me when I was still living in Philadelphia."

"That doesn't mean it's over," she quipped, peeling her cami off to reveal the lacy black bra that I loved.

Momentarily distracted as my eyes scanned my girlfriend's nearly naked body, her words landed on me late. "What are you talking about? Of course it's over. What did I just say?"

"Just because it happened so long ago doesn't mean it's over between you two." Nora made no move to remove the rest of her clothing. She folded her tattooed arms across her chest, making her cleavage tantalizingly more prominent. "Why is she here, anyway? Is she staying?"

I barely surpressed the urge to roll my eyes. "She's here to review a Broadway show for the _Times_. She'll be gone by Friday," I tagged on, hoping that my shot in the dark was correct. I really had no idea when she was leaving.

Nora looked at her feet, suddenly looking very small, standing half naked in our bathroom. "I knew this would happen," she whispered. "I knew as soon as she showed up, I would lose you."

"You haven't _lost_ me," I said incredulously, hurt stabbing through me. "Nora, I _love_ you."

Nora stared at me for a long minute before she finally relaxed, letting her arms drop to her sides. "Fine, Jess. Just—don't _hide_ things from me. Especially when they involve Rory."

"I wasn't trying to hide anything," I said, stepping closer and putting my hands on her waist. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. I should have told you I was going to see her."

"You big idiot," she sniffed, but she stepped into my embrace and rested her forehead on my collarbone. I felt the light sensation of a kiss being planted there and I smirked, looking down at her. "Shut up," she whined upon seeing my expression. But her eyes were playful now, and we quickly discarded our remaining clothes and stepped into the shower together.

* * *

><p>AN: Phew! My longest chapter yet, at nearly 6,000 words! Marathon writing! I actually had the part where Nora comes in already written before I even started the rest of this fic. Badabing, badaboom!

REVIEW PLEASE! Much like Lorelai can't function without coffee, I can't write without reviews to inspire me and keep me on the right track!


	9. The Pep Talk & The Epiphany

A/N: AHHHH I'm loving these reviews! Keep em coming!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Nine – The Pep Talk & The Epiphany_

**Rory**

I was definitely ready for this entire week to be over. As I showered and got ready to go to the office of the _New York Times_, all I could of was how _shitty _this whole week had been, and the many elements that contributed to this fact.

For one thing, this week was _supposed_ to be the happiest week of my life. I was supposed to be in Stars Hollow with the people I loved most in the world, day drinking and partaking in endless festivities with my friends and family who were all there to celebrate my marriage to James. A week-long vacation, a week-long party. Of course, when Lorelai had first suggested this, I had poo-pooed it, having never been one for big parties, but as the day approached I had found myself warming up to the idea, grateful for the time off work and well needed catch-up time with my friends and with Stars Hollow.

That of course all came to a screeching halt when my future mother-in-law's heart stopped beating before she could get on a plane. Wedding and all related plans cancelled, fiancé gone. Suddenly there had been a lot of unanticipated work to do and a lot of money was lost. Granted, what had happened was out of anybody's control and it's not like James and I had broken up. But it still sucked having to make all those phone calls and cancellations and watch money fly out the window. I had just begun to mellow out and enjoy the week when suddenly my stress levels skyrocketed again, as if I had never left work.

And _then, _Jess had showed up, unannounced and unexpectedly. That drudged up a lot of crap I was in no head space to deal with, and confused the hell out of me. Once he left, though, things finally took a turn for the better when I got the call to write for the _Times. _But of course, that high didn't last long, and I should have known that seeing Jess again would bring it all crashing down.

We had gotten _way _too drunk. He'd kissed me. _We _had kissed, because I couldn't deny that I had kissed him back, taken it further. Then I left my stupid phone and now both of our significant others knew and were pissed at us.

I couldn't shake the hair-raising, sinking feeling in my gut as I did my hair and make-up in the hotel bathroom, and every time I thought about last night or James an unpleasant shiver went up my spine. But I also kept seeing flashes of what had transpired; I could still feel Jess' hands on my body, burning trails up my sides, could taste his lips and his tongue, sickly sweet from the mojitos, could feel the sensation of my fingers buried in his hair, his body flush against mine—

I smeared my damn lipstick just thinking about it.

I had _cheated_ on James. The week we were supposed to get married, the week his mother died. And I _cheated_ on him. With Jess Mariano, of all people. I furiously blinked away tears to save my make-up. Job now, personal matters later. There was no way I was going to blow this opportunity. Plus, it felt good to push all thoughts of Jess and James out of my mind for a few hours and just be Rory Gilmore.

I slipped into my black pencil skirt and put on a pretty, pale blue summer blouse Lorelai had given me. I strapped on my nude pumps and observed myself in the mirror, suppressing all the emotions fighting in my brain. Satisfied, I grabbed my purse and headed out.

* * *

><p>"Ah, Miss Gilmore," Tucker Mansbridge said, standing as I entered his office. "Nice to finally put a face to the name."<p>

I shook his extended hand firmly. "Likewise, Mr. Mansbridge," I replied, although in reality I had known exactly what he looked like. I took a seat across from him at his desk, quickly taking in the meticulous neatness of it all. My stomach was alive with butterflies, but it was the good kind of nervous. There I was, sitting in an office at the _New York Times!_

Tucker Mansbridge was a thin, wiry man with huge, thick-framed glasses perched on his hooked nose. He was the head of the arts department of the _Times, _and someone I hugely respected both for his work and for his personality. From what I had read, he was very down-to-earth, respectful of everyone's opinions, and inclusive of all his subordinates' ideas and suggestions. I was eager to see if my research did him justice, but judging by his warm smile and his ability to make me feel instantly comfortable, I had high hopes already.

"Are you ready for tonight?" he asked, tapping his pen on a notepad on his desk. "It's going to be a pretty elaborate opening night, from what I've heard."

"I've been looking forward to it since I got the call," I replied, smiling. "It's a new play, so I don't know much about it, though, I'm afraid."

He smiled and spread his hands. "Well, that's why you're here! You're going to be part of the first audience to ever see this show, and you're going to tell New York exactly what to expect from it. I trust you understand the scope of this article, Miss Gilmore?"

I nodded confidently. "Of course, Mr. Mansbridge. I want to thank you for even considering me for this task. It really is a dream and a privilege to be here."

"Judging by your work I think you are the perfect fit for the job. And please, call me Tucker," he added.

"As long as you call me Rory," I shot back with a smile.

His eyes lit up. "Deal." He handed me a Playbill programme bearing the poster artwork for the play. "Managed to swipe a programme for you to look at early. It seems interesting. Very edgy and modern. If all goes well, it could very well be up for a Pulitzer. The play was actually published here, which makes it even more compelling. Not that it's new for plays to be published in New York, but this is the first one to come out of an independent publisher and go to Broadway, which is kind of exciting."

My heart sank and I felt my palms begin to sweat. I licked my lips, which had suddenly gone dry. "Uh...which independent publisher is that?"

"It's a weird name," he said, eyes narrowing as he tried to remember. "Starts with a T. Anyway, it's a growing company but it's a major selling point for this show. Definitely something to include in your article."

Was I going to pass out? I felt light-headed. Tucker glanced at me, concern creasing his brow. "Are you alright, Rory?"

"Yes, fine, thank you," I replied. _Snap out of it, Gilmore. _Okay, so Jess' company had published the play I was going to review. It could be a coincidence...but I had to check. "Is the publisher by any chance called Truncheon?"

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "That's it. You heard of them?"

"Uh, yes, in passing," I said with an air of nonchalance.

He nodded, seemingly impressed that I knew such a thing. "Well, good. The owners are supposed to be there tonight. See if you can interview them. Speaking of which, the playwright is also going to be there, and—"

I had unintentionally stopped listening. As Tucker spoke, all I could hear were his words over and over in my brain.

_The owners are supposed to be there tonight._

Oh, my god.

* * *

><p>For the upteenth time that night, I pulled my phone out of my clutch to check for messages. Still, nothing. James had left all my phone calls and texts unanswered since this morning. He wasn't even giving me a chance to explain anything. Not that I really <em>could<em> explain my actions for the past couple of days, and James was totally within his right to be pissed. But this total communication cut-off was really beginning to grate on my nerves. Which really sucked, because my nerves were already pretty much shot as it was.

The theatre lobby was packed with lavishly dressed people waiting to get into the theatre for the pre-show. The bar line-up was a mile long, and a crowd had gathered around the merchandise counter. I stood by out of the way, nursing a glass of red wine. I was wearing one of my favourite black dresses, a lovely fifties-Audrey-Hepburn-type thing, and blue pumps. My feet were already killing me, and the material of my dress was far too heavy for this hot summer night. Every few minutes my eyes darted around, constantly scouring the theatre lobby for any sign of Jess so I would know when to bolt. If he did show up, I could only assume he would have Nora with him, and I was just too much of a wreck to be able to handle the humiliation again.

When Jess had introduced the girl from the Café to me as his girlfriend, I hadn't been as surprised as I probably should have been. It explained the weird way she had acted around me when I'd mentioned Jess, and she was totally the type of girl I could see Jess going for. After all, she seemed to be the complete opposite of me. She stood out. She was covered in tattoos, her hair was long and thick and blood-red, she was olive-toned and exotic-looking. She was short and willowy and just altogether _wild. _I, on the other hand, was tall and awkward, still the epitome of the girl-next-door. Plain-Jane, boring old Rory Gilmore. Although, I couldn't help but realize that at least I was closer to Jess in age. Nora was clearly very young, I remembered Jess saying that outside the bar last night.

As I downed the last of my wine, it occurred to me that Jess and I were both just hopeless liars. We had both kept a significant amount of information a secret, both from each-other and from our respective significant others. He had waited till the last minute to even mention Nora, and obviously hadn't told her I was in town. He had also neglected to mention the opening night of a play his company had published, despite the fact that I had mentioned that I was reviewing the opening night of a new play. He could have written it off as a coincidence. It might not have even occurred to him at all. Or maybe he just straight-up hadn't told me, instead going for some element of surprise or mystery, which was such an infuriatingly _Jess _thing to do.

Of course, I was guilty, too. I hadn't told James about New York, or Jess, or anything that I had been feeling since he left for Ireland.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed all thoughts of James away. This was not the time or place. I had a job to do. I was going to be professional.

Of course, my little mantra became moot as my eyes locked right onto Jess', clear across the entire room. He had just entered the building, dressed to kill in black slacks, a white dress shirt and a black vest, just long, lean muscle underneath it all. Nora was on his arm in a white dress which looked lovely against her tanned skin, her bright red hair tumbling around her shoulders in thick waves. Another guy and a stunning blonde accompanied them, both dressed just as elegantly; I could only assume they also worked at Truncheon.

I did the only thing a twenty-eight-year-old nervous wreck would do: I bolted for the bathrooms.

I didn't actually have to go, so I lingered by the vanity counter, pretending to fix my hair and make-up. The open bulb lighting around the mirror actually made it seem like I had some colour in my cheeks, but I knew for a fact I must actually be quite pale. I felt sick. I wondered fleetingly if I was going to puke. Gripping the counter, I gave myself my best game face in the mirror. Alright, Gilmore. You have a job to do. You have a job. You're here for a reason. This night could determine your career. Focus on the play and its creators. Come up with a kick-ass article and review. Impress the shit out of Tucker Mansbridge. Make him regret not finding you sooner. But tell him you were unable to find the owners of the mysterious little publishing company, and wasn't able to interview them. There's no way you can make it through tonight if you have to face Jess again.

On the other hand, there was also probably no way I'd make it through the night _without _talking to him.

Feeling a bit more relaxed, I turned to leave the bathroom, but once again I had the carpet ripped out from under me as I found myself face-to-face with Nora. We stood there, facing off awkwardly, and did the little dance to get around each-other.

She also pretended to fix her hair and make-up, even though both were flawless. "I wasn't expecting to see you here," she breezed, not looking at me.

I stood by, unsure whether having a conversation with her in here was a good idea. "Surprise," I offered weakly. "Look, I know this is awkward, but I'm really sorry about this morning."

She smiled at me in the mirror. "Hey, no worries. It's all good." But her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I guess you guys had a lot to catch up on."

"Yeah, but...I know he didn't mean to keep anything from you, it just kind of happened, and—"

"I'm well aware of my boyfriend's intentions, thanks," she kind of snapped, but the smile never left her face. "Yours, however, I'm a little more unclear about." She grabbed her clutch and ducked around me, heading for the door. "Enjoy the show, Rory," she tossed over her shoulder as she left the bathroom.

Turning towards one of the stalls, this time I really did throw up.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

I had completely forgotten about this stupid opening night. We had been invited ages ago—if Nora wasn't so damn organized we definitely would be just sitting at home eating pizza and watching a movie and probably having sex instead of being here, which seemed a million times more appealing to me. However, as it were, duty called; this really was a big night for Truncheon and Café Livre. Nora, Isabel, Dimitri and I were all looking our best, and aiming to please. And the play itself was really good. As much as I hated the dressing-up-and-small-talk part of the evening, I really was looking forward to seeing how it played out on the stage.

Then, I saw Rory.

I remembered there being a mention of a reporter being there on opening night, but it had never even occurred to me that it could be Rory. Even when she had mentioned she was here to review a new play, I hadn't made the connection. But there she was, looking drop-dead gorgeous in the twinkling light of the theatre lobby, dressed in a sexy black number which clung to her torso and flared out at her narrow waist, barely brushing the tops of her knees. As soon as I saw her, she saw me, our eyes locking across the crowded room, and a chill went up my spine. Then, she was gone, making a bee-line for the bathrooms. Hoping Nora hadn't seen, I steered her towards the bar, Isabel and Dimitri in tow. But, as usual, fate wasn't on my side. Nora quickly excused herself to the lady's room, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop her without looking like a jackass.

"Everyone is practically eye-fucking your date, Mariano," Isabel crooned, leaning to speak into my ear.

I grit my teeth. "Let them. She looks incredible." She really did. I caught a glimpse of Nora disappearing into the washroom, her dress swishing around her ankles as she went.

"I'm just saying," Isabel pouted, "I'd keep an eye on her, if I were you."

"Thank god you're not me, then," I snapped. "Excuse me." I had never needed a cigarette so badly.

When I returned from my smoke break, the lobby was nearly empty; I assumed everyone had gone into the theatre. My party was nowhere to be seen. Sighing heavily, glad I had at least avoided the pre-show shmoozing, I headed for the bar.

But of course, there was Miss Gilmore herself, ordering a beer, of all things. When the bartender turned to get her her drink I approached her, leaning an elbow casually on the bar and tilting my head towards her. "Fancy seeing you here," I drawled lazily.

She jumped and turned towards me, mouth hanging open. She was pale and wide-eyed. Her fingers trembled even as she clutched her handbag. "Jess—I didn't—you shouldn't be—"

"You look terrible," I said. "I mean, you _look_—amazing—but you seem—what's the matter?" I asked, horrified, as tears quickly pooled in her eyes.

The bartender returned with her drink, and before she could reach into her purse I tossed a few bills onto the counter. "One more, please," I told him firmly. When he disappeared again I gently ran a hand down Rory's upper arm. "Talk to me, Gilmore. What's wrong?"

"What's _wrong_?" she snapped in a harsh whisper. "I'm ambushed. I had no idea you would be here. After this morning—and last night—and with James—I'm just a nervous fucking wreck, Jess, you have no idea. And I just saw Nora in the bathroom and I just feel _terrible_. I'm a terrible, awful person. What we did was unforgivable, and it wasn't _me_. I just don't know what to do!" She was completely undone, then, dissolving reluctantly to tears right before my eyes.

The bartender handed me my drink and I grabbed both glasses, nodding my head towards the doors. "Come on. Let's go outside," I told Rory.

She just looked at me through her tears. "But—the show?"

"They're gonna babble on for at least another twenty minutes," I said. "I promise, I'll get you in there before the curtain goes up."

I lit up another cigarette as we stepped outside onto the patio, taking seats on a bench there. Out of habit, I offered Rory one, and was genuinely surprised when she accepted it, letting me light it for her and taking a long, slow drag before exhaling upwards. "You smoke?" I asked.

She shook her head. "Only at times like these," she choked out, wiping the back of her hand across her cheeks. "God, I don't want to cry in front of you anymore."

I didn't know what to say to that, so I just took a drag on my own cigarette and chased it with a sip of beer.

She laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "I'm sorry. This is—this is really stupid."

"What's wrong, Rory?" I asked, wanting to just cut the bullshit. Damn me and my weakness that was Rory Gilmore. No matter what happened between us, I had to make sure she was okay.

I waited as she smoked and drank in silence for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Then, it all began to spill out of her like a waterfall. "This was supposed to be the happiest week of my life. I was supposed to be in Stars Hollow with my family and friends, and come Saturday I was supposed to be Mrs. James Connolly." She scoffed, shaking her head and looking at her hands. "And the shitty thing is, I don't know whether I'm sad or relieved that it didn't go according to plan. I mean, maybe it was a sign. Maybe I'm not meant to marry James. Maybe I'm meant to just be a workaholic and stay alone forever. I mean, they say first love is the greatest love, so why settle for second best, you know?"

I started taking bigger gulps of beer. Rory had never had the greatest self-esteem, but I had never heard her sound this bitter and hopeless regarding herself. And her last comment about first love just utterly confused me. Did she want Dean back, or something? She couldn't really believe that that bean pole was the guy she was meant to be with. "First love is overrated," I chided, shrugging. "It's a fallacy caused by romance novels and chick flicks. It doesn't mean anything as life goes on."

She just gave that bitter laugh again and took a drag on her cigarette, but I saw her face contort as another wave of tears hit her. Mascara began cascading down her cheeks. Okay, wrong thing to say. I mentally kicked myself. Foot _out of _your mouth, Jess.

"Look, Rory," I sighed, raking a hand through my hair, "if you want to have a little pity party, that's fine. Go home and get in your PJ's and watch trashy TV and eat ice cream. Scream into your pillow, take a hot bath, whatever it takes. But please, just do what you need to do and get over it. You're better than this. You are talented and strong and smart, you always have been, and you always will be. And if James isn't the right guy for you—fuck him. You'll find someone who appreciates you for who you are. Someone who challenges you emotionally and intellectually and lets you _feel _something, no matter what. You of all people deserve that. But fuck all this woe-is-me shit, really. It doesn't suit you." And with that, I downed the last of my beer.

Rory was staring at me, her lovely face sticky with mascara tears, but her eyes were dry now. Her mouth was open slightly as she just looked at me, as if searching my soul for the answer to some unasked question. I realized how close I was to her—I could feel her body head on my arm. She reached out and curled her fingers around the edge of my vest, tugging at it gently.

It crashed down on me, then, as we stood there on the patio of that theatre, that after all this time, no matter how far I had come from that angry seventeen-year-old version of me, no matter how many women I had been with since then, how far I had taken my career, how much of a something I had made from my previous nothing, how far I had traveled, how much love I felt for Nora—despite _all_ that, I was still hopelessly and irrevocably in love with Rory fucking Gilmore. I always had been, I always would be. And it was so obvious now; that guy I was just telling Rory that she deserved, that guy was _me, _damn it.

Almost simultaneously, we moved into each-other, our lips meeting hot and fast, our beers forgotten on the bench behind us. As the stars smiled down on our forbidden act, I once again lost a piece of my heart to a Gilmore girl.

* * *

><p>AN: Yeah, yeah, another kind of cliffhanger. I'm a sucker for 'em. Just like I'm a sucker for your reviews! Pleeeeaaaase review!


	10. The Reversal & The Return Home

**A/N: Mature content ahead. You have been warned!**

**Eight and a Half**

By ImagineBackstory

_Chapter Ten – The Reversal & The Return Home_

**Jess**

"Twenty minutes?"

I pushed her against the wall of the theatre, safely out of sight of any prying eyes. Her hands were swiftly exploring my torso and I could feel her heart beating against my chest as I pressed my body into hers, wedging her between myself and the wall. I attacked her neck with my lips, trailing hot wet kisses down to her collarbone and back up to nibble on her ear. "Fifteen," I corrected her breathlessly, and when I kissed her properly all my inhibitions simply disappeared. I couldn't remember feeling desire so strong in such a short period of time. I pressed my want into Rory's hips and heard her groan in response, her fingers clutching at my shirt, pulling it untucked from my pants.

Running my hands down her body, I cupped them underneath her thighs and lifted her, pressing her up against the wall as I let the vee of her body cradle my hips. I could feel the heat of her through the thin layers of clothing that separated us, and I grunted, undulating against her. A strangled cry escaped her lips and I silenced her by tangling my tongue with her own, and it was all I could do not to take her right then and there, especially when I felt her teeth graze my bottom lip and tug lightly. This time it was my turn to moan into the delicious cavern of her mouth.

I tensed as I felt Rory's small fingers working on the buttons of my vest, prying it open, before sliding lower still to tug at my belt. I pulled back momentarily to stare at her as she fiddled with the difficult buckle. Her eyes were dark with lust, lips puffy and bruised from the rough kisses we had shared. She reached up one hand to tangle in my hair, pulling my mouth back to hers, as the other hand slid the punctured end of my belt from its captive buckle between our connected hips. I was almost at the point of no return and I knew if I let this go any further there would be no stopping me.

"Rory," I groaned in warning as her fingers grappled at the button of my slacks, "stop."

She froze, pulling back to look at me, confusion and hurt washing across her face. "What's wrong?"

I sighed, just as frustrated as she was. "Not like this, Rory. Not here, not now."

Her chest heaved as she stared at me, her face eye-level with mine as I held her hoisted against the wall. Her hands remained immobile on my belt. "But..." she practically whined.

"I know," I whispered, pressing my forehead to hers.

"Hotel?" she asked.

My breath hitched, but I had to shake my head. "You have to...watch the show."

She nodded, trying to catch her breath. She wasn't even heavy. I could have easily taken her against this wall. The thought made my heart ache and my intimate parts twitch. I was silently cursing the romantic side of me that had always wanted my first time with Rory to be special and intimate. Banging against a wall in a relatively public place, albeit sexy, definitely wasn't romantic, and I couldn't bring myself to put those feelings aside and just follow my basic primal instincts. And of course, the little nagging voice in my head kept reminding me that Nora was nearby, inside the theatre, oblivious to my tryst out here on the patio. Or perhaps not so oblivious, which was worse.

She squirmed in my grip, elliciting a wayward moan from me, and I released her, setting her down on her feet in front of me. "I'm sorry, Ror," I said quietly as she smoothed out her dress. "But you know this is a bad idea."

"I know," she sighed defeatedly, reaching up to let her hair down from its now dishevelled up-do. Her long, brown locks fell in soft waves past her shoulders, and I noted in that moment how long her hair had gotten. Even now, in its curly state, it fell past her breasts. "I just don't care right now," she added, pouting.

"Yes, you do." I circled her with my arms, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. "Think about James, and Nora. This is wrong."

"This isn't about them," she said, but I could tell she knew I was right. Her judgment, much like mine, was clouded by desire. "Did I do something wrong?"

"Well, you're driving me crazy, if that's what you mean," I admitted, smirking down at her, "but only in the best way possible."

A smile played on her lips and she hid her face in my shoulder, her fingers curling in my shirt front. "We can't do this." It wasn't a question. It was the pure and hard fact. Timing had never been mine and Rory's strong suit.

"We've been here before, Rory," I reminded her gently. "Twice, actually. Have you cheated on all your boyfriends with me?"

She looked genuinely insulted. "There were others between Logan and James," she protested.

I bit my lip. "Regardless. Remember how it turned out?" Of course, as far as Dean and Logan were concerned, those had been a couple of relatively chaste kisses rather than dry humping against a wall, but tomayto, tomahto.

She was staring at my Adam's apple, her breath tickling my collarbone. "Jess," she said, her voice barely above a whisper, "since when are you the rational one?"

I chuckled, my fingers coming up to tangle in her long hair. "Trust me, not _all_ of me is being totally rational right now."

A blush bloomed across her cheeks and I knew she could feel the evidence of that against her abdomen. "Ah... so, this is new," she said quietly, biting her lip.

_Damn. _When she looked up at me like that, I almost lost it. She was right. This was new to both of us. It's not like I'd never been sprung the few times we'd gotten hot and heavy when we were together as teenagers, but those moments had been brief and still rather chaste compared to this. I was starting to see a side of Rory that I had never gotten the privilege of seeing before, the side that wasn't as sweet and sugary as the rest of the world perceived her. For all my teenaged fantasizing and the curiosity I had always felt regarding Rory's sexuality, I had imagined her being a shy and submissive lover. But her demanding hands and wanton attack on my mouth was beginning to prove me wrong, which only made my curiosity that much stronger.

And on that note, I finally released her, knowing I was far too close to just giving in to my carnal instincts. I stepped back a bit, rubbing a hand over the back of my head almost sheepishly. "I'm sorry. That got out of hand."

"Don't be sorry," she replied. "It's not like I was stopping you."

My eyebrows shot up. "That, you weren't."

"Jess, um." She paused to smooth out her dress and find the words she wanted to say. "I don't know what this is, between us. What I'm doing, what _you're_ doing _to_ _me_. But I'm tired of denying that whatever _this _is—it's here. And it's real. And...it's not going away so long as we're near each-other. This has...this has been about ten years in the making, and...it's just so much..."

I nodded, silently doing up my belt and tucking my shirt back in. I wanted to tell her everything I was feeling—the realization that I still loved her, the ache I felt to touch her, that for once my fight-or-flight instinct wasn't kicking in and ruining everything—but I felt my walls go up again, felt the guilt eating away at my gut, heard Nora's name in the blood rushing in my ears. Was this what being a responsible adult felt like? I knew I was no longer the impulsive, ne'er a care teenager I once was, but I had always thought of myself as one to give in to most desires, to live and let live no matter the consequence. The difference was that unlike teenaged me, I now had something to lose. And that was my girlfriend, and if I lost her, I'd lose everything else: my job, my home, my company, my_ life. _The life I had created for myself, from scratch. Yes, I loved Rory. But with the way things were, I couldn't risk everything in a bet on her, because she was now so upredictable it made my head spin.

I sighed, hating myself as I said what I knew I had to say. "Maybe we shouldn't be near each-other, then."

Her face pinched with hurt and I barely resisted the urge to reach out and smooth away the crease in between her eyebrows. I hated hurting Rory, even though it was something I'd mastered over the years. She looked away, folding her arms across her chest. "Yeah. Maybe," she said firmly. She lifted her eyes to mine, and they were hard, determined. "But that's not going to happen is it? It can't, with us. You know it. I know it. Why are we fighting this, Jess?"

I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the irony of the situation. "This is a bit of a reversal, huh?"

She frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"

"_You_ asking _me_ to be with _you_. Unfamiliar territory."

She exhaled loudly, her cheeks turning pink. "Come on, Jess, stop joking around," she snapped. "I'm serious. Look at us! Eight and a half _years_ with no contact and here we are _again. _After everything we've been through, even though we broke up _ten years ago_—we _can't_ stay away from each-other, Jess. That's evident, now."

A coil of anger began clenching in my gut as I raised an eyebrow. "That's not fair, Rory."

"What's not fair is that you're lying to me!" she cried. "And you're lying to yourself, too."

I looked away, then, too mad to be able to look her in the eye. I shoved my hands in my pockets. "No, Rory," I said, my voice low, dark. "It's not fair because I already gave you this chance. _Three times _I've asked you to be with me, no matter what anyone said or thought, to forget everything and everyone and just _be with me_. The first time, it worked, but I blew it, I know that. I was a shitty boyfriend and I let you down. But the other two times, I was ready for you, Rory. At Yale, in Philly. But you didn't want me, then. You'd moved on. You were the one with something to lose. And now you have James, and Rory, now I have a life, too. All those times I asked you, I didn't _really_ expect you to drop everything for me, and it's not fair for you to expect me to do the same, now."

She bit her quivering lower lip stared down at her feet, blinking rapidly to clear tears away. "That was so long ago, Jess..." she said quietly.

"It doesn't matter," I replied gently. "You were...you were the one that got away. That kind of hurt...it doesn't heal, even after so many years. It doesn't just go away."

"So, that's it?" she burst, throwing her arms out. "This is your revenge for me hurting you? You want to get even, is that it?"

I rolled my eyes before I could stop myself. "It's not about you, Rory."

"Bullshit," she spat. She bent to collect her discarded purse and clipped past me, her heels shotgunning off the cold marble of the patio floor. "This was a mistake."

"I couldn't agree more," I hissed at her back.

She turned as she pulled the door open, fixing me one last withering glare before she stormed inside, letting the door bang shut behind her.

Figuring we shouldn't enter the theatre together, I watched her go, scrubbing a hand over my jaw, my heart sinking down to my toes. Taking a seat once again on the bench, I downed my beer and the rest of hers, and lit up yet another cigarette. I hadn't known any of those things I'd said to be true until I'd said them. I told myself it wasn't revenge; I was just protecting myself. I couldn't let her hurt me again, not with our history, not with my current situation. As much as I loved that girl...I just couldn't do that to myself. Or to Nora.

I groaned, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. _Nora. _How was I supposed to face her after the show? She could read me like a book; she'd know something was up, especially since I had all but disappeared before the show started.

I took my phone out of my pocket and sent Nora a quick text.

_Must have some sort of stomach bug. Gonna head home. Sorry babe. Love you._

God, I was such an asshole.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

Of fucking course, the goddamn play was all about a pair of ex-lovers who found each-other again later in life, and all the drama and heartache that went along with it. As I sat there in the theatre, dealing with the uncomfortable evidence of mine and Jess' activities between my thighs, I found myself bawling my eyes out during the play's climactic scene where the characters decided they just weren't able to be together. Thank god it was generally an emotional play so I wasn't the only one crying, but I was literally snotting everywhere, and it wasn't pretty. The gentleman next to me sympathetically handed me a pack of tissues which I quickly went through.

As I left the theatre, emotionally drained and completely humiliated, I worried about how the hell I was going to write a review about this show while keeping personal influences out of it. Thinking about it now was just painful, but I knew I would have to spend at least a few days analyzing and writing about it, and potentially answering reader comments and questions in issues to follow.

_Have you cheated on all your boyfriends with me?_

Dean, Logan, James. They were the most serious boyfriends I'd had besides Jess himself—yes, I'd dated a bit after turning down Logan's proposal and before meeting James four years later, but none had lasted as long as even Dean had, and that had been off-and-on only a couple years. Was I a serial cheater? Or was it just that Jess had some sort of supernatural influence over me that I could never resist? Why was it always _him_? Why did he have the power to undo me over and over again?

I had forgotten the sheer power of being hurt by Jess Mariano. I dearly wished I'd never been reminded.

I had a good long talk with myself that night as I sat in the shower upon returning to the hotel. I came up with a plan: I was going back to New Haven. I was going to write the review of the play immediately, just get it over with, and send it to Tucker. Then, I was going to phone James until he finally picked up, and if he still didn't, I was going to fly to Ireland myself and make him talk to me. I was going to beg for his forgiveness, which I knew he would eventually grant me, and I would meet his family, and then we would return home together and go back to the way things were before we travelled to Stars Hollow for the wedding, and begin the process of planning all over again. Perfect, harmonious, and competely ex-free.

There were no cons to this list. I was swearing off Jess and checking into Mariano Rehab as a top priority patient, starting immediately.

Yeah, _right._

The next day, the heat radiating off the leather seats of my car threatened to suffocate me singlehandedly. New York was a killer in the summertime. Point duly noted. Suddenly _far too hot, _I opted to roll my windows down because the AC just wasn't cutting it. As I began the long drive back to New Haven, I had _what if _scenarios playing over and over in my head. What if he hadn't stopped me? What if I'd gotten his belt undone, what then? What if we had just let ourselves explore, do what we felt in the moment? What if I had finally discovered what Jess Mariano felt like?

Shaking my head to clear the blasphemous thoughts, I stepped on the gas, speeding the rest of the way home.

* * *

><p>The TV was on as I finally barged into my apartment, dragging my suitcase behind me while balancing my coffee tumbler and my keys in my other hand. "Hello?" I called out with uncertainty, wondering if Lane or Paris had stopped by to house-sit or feed the cat.<p>

"Rory?" came the soft reply.

I nearly dropped my coffee as I bounded into the living room, and promptly burst into tears when I saw James lounging there, on our couch, Sherlock curled comfortably in his lap. "Oh my god," I sobbed, placing my face in my hands. "You're _here_."

"Surprise?" he asked, a confused grin on his face. He stood and came to me, pulling me in for a tender hug. "Hey, hey. I didn't expect this reaction."

I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of soap and tobacco, and wrapped my arms around him. He was stocky and he gave the very _best _hugs; I'd nearly forgotten. He pulled back slightly to place a gentle kiss on my lips, beaming down at me with a playful twinkle in his eye. "Everything okay?"

"It is now," I replied, returning his smile before hugging him tightly as I shed the last of my tears.

We moved onto the couch, me curling into his side as he rested his arm casually over the back of the couch, his hand coming down to stroke my hair lazily. I sighed, closing my eyes, suddenly feeling very sleepy. "I owe you an apology," I said quietly. "And an explanation."

"Yes. You do." James cleared his throat. "It seems we have a _lot_ to catch up on."

I sat up, wiping my face, and looked at him, curling my legs up and under me. "I am so, _so_ sorry," I began, my fingers meshing nervously. "I should have told you about New York, and the _Times. _But the reason I didn't is not because I wanted to hide anything from you or lie to you. I just knew you were going through such a rough time with your mom and everything, and I didn't want to take any attention away from you because I got the article with the _Times. _I just felt guilty; you were going through so much, I didn't want to be happy if you weren't."

"_Rory_," he groaned, taking my hands in his. "You really think I would have thought of it that way? You know that when it comes to your accomplishments, I will _always_ support you, I will _always_ be happy for you, regardless of what's going on in my life. It was just silly of you to even think like that."

"I know, I know," I replied quickly, shaking my head. "It was stupid. And I'm sorry. There was just so much going on; I didn't handle it properly. At all. I know."

He sat there for a moment, contemplating my words. His thumb brushed absently over the back of my hand. "And...Jess?" he asked quietly.

I swallowed, knowing this moment had been coming. "Jess is...Jess is Jess," I said, staring down at our entwined fingers. "It's kind of a long story."

"I'm listening." His voice had an edge to it, now. _Oh, boy_.

"He's Luke's nephew," I explained. "I've known him since we were, like, seventeen. He lived in Stars Hollow for a while. We had a...turbulant relationship."

"So you dated." It wasn't a question.

I bit my lip. "Yes. Briefly. A few months. But we were teenagers and...he left. And that was that."

"That doesn't seem like a very long story to me," James sniffed, pressing his lips together. "I'm having a hard time believing _that was that_."

"He was...he was my best friend, and my first real love, I think," I said. "He really hurt me, more than once. And we weren't really ever able to be friends after he left. It still kind of hurts, and he's...hard to talk about. That's why I never mentioned him to you before."

"You say he left. Where did he go?"

"A lot of places," I said. "Before I mailed him the invitation to the wedding I didn't even know he was living in New York. Last I'd heard he was in Philadelphia."

"Yeah, about that. You never told me you'd invited him to our wedding. A heads-up would have been nice," James added bitterly.

I nodded, squeezing his hands. "I know. I just never really expected Jess to show up. It was more of a courtesy thing, really. After all, now that Mom and Luke are practically married he and I are technically related. Like, common-law step-cousins, or whatever." Ew. I hadn't even thought of that.

He ran a hand through his short blond curls, sighing. "Rory, you have to understand how this looks to me," he said. "You didn't tell me where you were, what was going on. Then I phone you and some bloke I'd never heard of answers and says you'd left your phone at his place...what was I supposed to think?"

"I know, it looked really bad. But it was nothing, really. We grabbed a drink and caught up a bit. We shared a cab, and I went up to his place to borrow a book from him, and ended up leaving my phone. Then I went to my hotel for the night. I went over the next day to collect my phone, and that was that."

_Why was I lying?_

Because even I couldn't face the truth at that moment. It was just too painful, too unreal, to me.

He'd let go of my hands, but now he took them again. "Rory, you've never given me a reason not to trust you before. I know I'm a jealous man, unfortunately, as you know, I haven't had the greatest experiences with women in the past. But I don't want to be that guy who takes that all out on you. So please, don't give me a reason not to trust you now. Tell me that you're telling the truth."

Because I was a terrible person, I looked him straight in the eyes, and lied. "It's the truth."

He hugged me, then, and _that was that._

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter took me awhile to write; I kept starting it and not being happy with it, so I scrapped it a few times before I was finally satisfied.

Let me know what you think! You guys' reviews are seriously SO helpful.


	11. The Depression

A/N: Thanks for your reviews! This chapter is pretty heavy, guys. I guess I was in a sad mindset today, but this just kinda poured out of me. I was going to scrap it, but I'm going for realism with this story, and sadness is just a part of life. Anyhow...read on, and please let me know what you think.

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Eleven – The Depression_

**Rory**

By the beginning of September, three and a half weeks after my return from New York, everything seemed to be back to normal. I was swamped at work, and though my article for the _Times _had been a complete hit and drawn thousands of people to the theatre, I hadn't heard back from Tucker since it had been published. Part of me had been hoping that that article would open up new opportunities, but it didn't seem to be the case. Regardless, the _New Haven Register _kept me busy, with a new season starting at the Shubert and the local ballet company having their summer's end showcase. I barely saw James at all—he was working as a trainee stage manager for the Shubert's production of _Annie. _I worked nine-to-five during the day, and he worked five till late. Polar opposites. I really only saw him when he crawled into bed and promptly fell asleep every night.

Still, I was feeling a lot better about life in general. I was back at work, it was keeping me busy—and distracted—and James seemed to be doing okay considering the circumstances. He seemed more himself, anyway, the sense of humour returning day by day as the healing process began. He Skyped with his father and brothers every weekend, and I usually left him alone for those conversations, figuring it was still necessary family bonding time they needed to catch up on. Between work and James I barely had time to think about my little trip to New York at all, or the people therein involved.

The Friday after labour day, James and I decided to take a weekend trip to Stars Hollow. I hadn't talked to Lorelai in far too long, and both of us fancied some time away from our shoebox condo and work stresses. We were both able to get the time off, so we took advantage. Besides—where else would we go?

I was barely through the door when my legs were attacked by a toddling, diaper-clad Emerson, his squeals filling me with joy as I lifted him for a cuddle. My baby brother was the cutest thing I ever did see—and he totally had the Gilmore eyes. "Hi, buddy," I cooed, rubbing his nose with my own and smiling. "I missed you."

He got shy, then, and buried his face in my shoulder. I laughed, holding him tightly as I kicked my shoes off. Lorelai came around the corner and her face broke into a huge smile when she saw her children locked in an embrace. "He sure does love you, kid," she said, stepping forward to kiss my cheek. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I replied, passing Lorelai the huge takeout bags James and I had picked up on the way over. "Hungry, tired, but good."

Lorelai gave James a long, warm hug, and kept him at arms' length when she pulled back. "And how are you doing?" she asked knowingly with a sympathetic smile.

He returned the affectionate smile and began removing his coat. "Hangin' in there," he replied. He helped me out of my coat after hanging up his own, manoevering around Emerson as he did so.

Luke came downstairs as we made our way into the living room, enveloping me in a bear hug before shaking James' hand firmly, reaching out to pat him on the back for good measure. "Welcome back," Luke grunted, a small smile on his face. James simply nodded knowingly in response.

The four of us lounged around in the living room chatting lightly for awhile, with Emerson taking turns in each person's lap. Finally, he curled up in my arms and was soon sound aseep, his petal-perfect eyelids shifting as dreams played out behind his closed eyes. "I'll take him up," I whispered when Lorelai moved to take him from me. She smiled appreciatively.

Luke and Lorelai had been prepping my old room to be Emerson's nursery eventually, but his birth complications and unsettled sleeping patterns kept him up in their room longer than expected. Emerson had been a bit of a surprise; Lorelai had been forty-three when she had him, and though my mother was forever young at heart, her body hadn't handled the late pregnancy too well. As I carried him upstairs, breathing in the wonderful scent of baby on his soft scalp, I reminded myself what a miracle he truly was, and was overwhelmed with gratitude that he and Lorelai had made it through a rough start and were healthy and happy. The dark and endless days at the hospital when he was first born had been heartbreaking and scary—but now all was well, if not for Luke and Lorelai's occasionally disturbed sleep.

I felt the familiar pang as I set the eighteen-month-old down in his crib, gently brushing a stray, dark curl across his forehead. I often got this odd feeling when I was around Emerson, or any baby or child for that matter. I supposed it was purely primal maternal instinct kicking in—my body was telling me that my biological clock was ticking, that my prime baby-making time was _now. _I was nearing thirty, after all, but even still, I didn't feel quite ready to take that step. I couldn't even get _married, _let alone bring a child into the world.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and curled up on the rocking chair in the corner, listening to Emerson's soft breathing and the white-noise maker playing gentle waves in the background. Finally, sitting there in the stillness and peace of my family's bedroom, I let the exhaustion from the past few weeks wash over me and dozed off, during which time I allowed myself to think of Jess.

I thought about his eyes, his crooked smile, the way he bit his bottom lip when he was thinking. His expressive eyebrows betraying any emotion he let slip onto his face. His long, thick eyelashes framing deep secrets. The tautness of his arms, the smooth skin of his chest and the ripple of muscle on his abdomen. The way he smelled like cigarettes and peppermint, as if he was constantly smoking and then chewing gum in an attempt to cover it up; he'd always smelled that way, as long as I'd known him. His lovely hands, touching me gently, or roughly. The glimpse of passion on his face whenever he talked about literature or art of any kind. His thought process—strange as it was to me—how he could so eloquently turn thoughts into words, when he wanted to.

_You were the one that got away, _he'd said. I was beginning to realize that maybe he was that for me, too, and what a terrible tragedy that was. I had never received closure with Jess, there was always that question of _what if. _He had popped in and out of my life so quickly over the years, and I wished now, as I so often did, that we had kept in touch all this time, at least a little bit, so that I could have had a glimpse at how he had grown into the man I barely recognized today. Of course, he was still _Jess—_that would never change—but his maturity and his overall nature had changed completely. He was dedicated and knew what he wanted. He was _happy. _Who was I to come along and destroy everything he had worked for?

I was crying when Lorelai gently shook me out of my half-dream; my eyes were sticky with unshed tears. She pulled me to her and just held me, stroking my hair, as I finally faced the emotions I'd so hoped I'd buried.

Despite my little nap, I lay in bed awake for quite some time that night, listening to James' steady breathing as he slept soundly on the trundle bed next to me. I reached out to gently run my fingers through his curls, watching them bounce back as I released them. Since he'd come home we hadn't once discussed our not-wedding or made any sort of plan to reschedule. The elephant in the room had gone unaddressed for weeks. For the first time since dating James, I felt as though our relationship had a time limit. The loss of his mother, the cancellation of the wedding, my disastrous trip to New York—all seemed to have put a strain on us that neither of us was in the right mind to discuss. I wondered if we ever would be, or if we would just fake it for awhile until we eventually drifted so far apart we could not longer see each-other.

I was finally drifting off when my phone lit up and buzzed an incoming call. Startled, I reached for it, stunned to find that it was nearly five in the morning. The caller ID made my heart sink. "Jess?"

"Rory, um." His voice broke and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry—to call so late. Or, early, I should say."

"What's going on?" I whispered, carefully sliding out of bed and tiptoeing into the kitchen so as not to disturb James. I let myself out onto the back porch, into the utter stillness of Stars Hollow early in the morning.

He breathed for a few moments, and I suddenly wondered if he was choking back tears. He was making small gasping noises on the other end of the line. Finally, he said, quietly, "Do you ever get the feeling like you're attracted to people who are broken, because deep down you think you can fix them?"

I exhaled slowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this. "Yeah, Jess," I replied, looking down at my toes. "I know the feeling."

"But the thing is," he continued, his voice inherently sad, "people who are broken—_that_ broken—just can't be fixed sometimes. So...where does that leave...us? We who take care of these destroyed individuals, we who destroy ourselves in the process...do we leave, save ourselves, because it's hopeless, and forever be that asshole who left someone who clearly needed help? Or do we stay with them and just hope that one day, they'll get better?" He was definitely crying now. Every few words his voice broke into a sob.

I didn't know what to say. "Jess..." I trailed off, biting my lip. "You gonna tell me what happened?" When he didn't answer, I prompted further. "Is it Nora?" He sniffled. Worry pricked the hair on my arms into a standing position. "Jess? Talk to me. I'm here."

He just cried into the receiver, and I listened to him. Maybe he just needed someone to listen to him cry. Lorelai had done that for me earlier this very evening. Sometimes you just need an audience for your sorrow.

I realized then that I had never seen Jess Mariano cry. Not in the ten years I'd known him. Even when I had shut him down at Yale, when he had come with the intention of whisking me away, though his voice had crackled with emotion, he hadn't shed a tear. Not in front of me, anyway. So hearing him now, like this, so _distraught_, I knew something serious had to have happened.

As his sobs receded, I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. When I could no longer hear anything but his shaky breathing, I said gently, "You alright?"

I could practically hear him nodding. "Thanks, Rory," he whispered.

"Anytime."

He hung up.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

It had been our worst fight yet. Never before had we let loose on each-other like this; Nora standing her ground in the kitchen, _screaming _at me as I stood on the opposite end of the apartment, knuckles white on the back of the couch, screaming right back at her. It got to the point where I couldn't even remember what we had initially been fighting about—it just turned into a huge rehash of every little argument we had ever had, all suddenly exploding at once. I brought up all the nights I'd had to rescue her drunk and or high ass from some club on the island, all the times I had found her in some guy's lap with her tongue down his throat; she brought up my recent depressive state, my lack of inspiration for writing material, my pretty much non-existant libido, and Rory. Always Rory, Rory, _Rory_. When I heard the accusation in her tone I lost it, and she lost it right back, in turn.

It only ended when she stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her with such force that pictures fell off the walls, shattering glass all over the floor. I had neighbours come over and ask if everything was okay. Imagine my humiliation.

At that point I was so wiped I had definitely dozed off on the couch. I woke with a start to the sound of my phone ringing. It was half past three in the morning and it was as quiet as New York could ever be. Even Brooklyn, which was far enough away from Manhattan, never really went to sleep.

Groaning, I sat up and stretched out the awful kink in my neck, then reached for my phone. Seeing Nora's number flash on the screen, I glanced around, my heart sinking when I realized that it was three-thirty in the morning and she still wasn't home.

"Nora?" I asked as I pressed my phone to my ear.

"Uh, hey," said a male voice rather hesitantly. Loud music warped his words, and I could hear what sounded like a room full of people yelling in the background. "Is this Jess?"

I stiffened. "What's going on? Who is this?" I asked, this situation suddenly seeming all too familiar.

"It's Matt, I'm a friend of Nora's. You gotta come get her, man. She passed out and no one has any idea where she lives."

I closed my eyes, forcing myself to breathe in, breathe out. Not this. Please, not this again. It had been months. A year, even, since I'd received a call like this. "Is she safe?" I demanded, though I managed to keep my voice relatively calm. My fist was flexing on instinct, ready to destroy, as if it had retained muscle memory from all those nights I'd had to go pick Nora up from some shithole in Manhattan.

Matt must have taken the phone away from his ear momentarily; I could hear him talking to someone as the background noise faded a bit. The voices were echoing and figured he was in a bathroom. I distinctly heard someone retching and pressed my fist to my lips, a gross shudder passing through my body. "Hold her hair," Matt told someone urgently. I couldn't make out the reply back. Matt's voice came back into the receiver. "I think she's greened out, dude."

_Fuck. _"Where are you?"

As Matt garbled the address to me I was already pulling my shoes on and snatching my wallet off the coffee table. I found one of Nora's hair elastics and slid it around my wrist, just in case. When he had finished, I snapped a quick "Thanks" before hanging up and tearing out of the apartment.

It was a goddamn industrial loft party. Hipsters everywhere. Figures.

As I pushed roughly through the throngs of people, my blood began to boil. I tried to keep calm; I just wanted to see her. I just wanted to know she was safe. The rest—the fury, the worry, the disappointment—could come later, when she wasn't in danger, when she wasn't wrapped around a toilet in some stranger's bathroom. I thanked my lucky stars that over the years I had become good at keeping my temper in check in the moment. I would blow up later, but for now, I was in control, albeit worried fucking sick.

A tall guy with a man-bun was leaning awkwardly beside a closed door, his eyes darting around nervously. When he saw me barrelling towards him he pushed off the wall and shoved his hands into his shorts' pockets. "You Jess?" he asked as I approached him.

He could barely be over the legal drinking age. "Where is she?" I snapped, my jaw twitching.

Wordlessly, he pushed the door open just enough for us both to squeeze through.

No matter how many times I had seen something similar to what I saw then, it still managed to rip my heart out every single time.

Nora was on all fours in the bath tub, whimpering between bouts of vomit. A girl I didn't recognize was sitting on the edge of the tub, holding Nora' hair in his fist, her narrow face pinched with what I guessed must have been concern, though I noticed her pupils were dilated as fuck. The whole place reeked of pot, and man-bun guy, who I assumed was Matt, lit a joint as he stepped into the bathroom behind me. I didn't miss the lines of white powder on the back of the toilet, either.

I knelt next to the tub and took Nora's hair from the girl, telling her to fuck off with my eyes. She did so, following Matt out of the room. "Jess?" Nora groaned, her voice like sandpaper. She kept her head down, but tears were dripping from her eyes into the mess in the tub below her.

"I'm here, honey," I replied, keeping my voice low and soothing.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, and heaved again.

God, it had been years since Nora greened out. She had given up pot completely after the last time, after vomiting uncontrollably for a good three hours. If this time was anything like that, we were going to be in this bathroom for a very long while.

I gathered Nora's thick hair into a knot at the nape of her neck and secured it with the elastic I had put around my wrist. When she apologized again, I just shushed her gently and stroked her head rhythmically to soothe her. This went on and on—forever it seemed—until finally, her body stopped convulsing.

"Hang on, baby," I whispered, and I reached to unzip her dress, carefully tugging it up and over her head. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, silent tears rolling down her face. I folded the dress into a plastic bag Matt must have brought around at some point, and then reached to turn the shower on. Nora whimpered as the cold water hit her, and I stood to adjust the temperature and aim the stream at the mess she had made, rinsing it all away down the drain before turning the spray back on her. Locking the bathroom door, I took off my clothes and stepped into the tub behind her, sitting down and pulling her back into my body, holding her against my chest as the warm water soaked us both through. Her sobs reverberated off the walls, and with each one I just held her tighter.

Her fingers gripped my arm as she seemed to come into some form of consciousness, twisting her body around so she could look up at me. I cupped her face with my hand and kissed her forehead as her lips moved against my sternum. "Where did you go?" she asked, the first part coming out as a mere whine. She watched intently as a bead of water tumbled in a rivulet down my breast plate.

Somehow, I knew she was talking about that night at the theatre. The night we had been fighting about, I remembered. "I'm so sorry, Nora," I murmured. As I held onto her quivering body, my lips pressed firmly to her hair, I let the guilt wrack through me, every fibre of my being viciously telling me that this was all my fault.

It was almost five in the morning by the time I helped Nora out of the cab and up to our loft. Light was barely touching the sky, and really the only cars around were taxis. We were both silent as we got in, and I practically carried Nora up the stairs to our bedroom. She was still pretty out of it, so I helped her undress and get into her pyjamas, and tucked her into bed. She was out before her head hit the pillow.

_Cocaine. _She had done it before, but never in combination with pot and alcohol. I was surprised I hadn't received a call from the hospital tonight, and wondered briefly if I should take her in tomorrow, just to make sure she was okay.

I got her a glass of water and took it up to her, along with the garbage bin from the kitchen in case her body needed to expel again. I sat on the edge of the bed and gently stroked her hair for a bit, just watching her sleep. I was getting a pounding headache from frowning so long, something I had been experiencing almost daily since Rory left.

I wandered back downstairs and paced the apartment, running my hands over my hair. I was far too restless to try and go back to sleep. My head was pounding, and I knew it was probably related to my sinuses now as I fought back tears.

Finally, as I stood at my windows and watched the very first rays of sun peek out from amongst the cluster of buildings before me, the first wave of tears hit me. As sobs overtook my body, I pulled out my cellphone, and called Rory.

* * *

><p>AN: Told you it was heavy. Next chapter will be more fluffy, I promise. PLEASE review! They are more addicting than coffee!


	12. The Commitment & The Obligation

A/N: Thanks for the amazing reviews for the last chapter, guys. I'm glad you liked it so much!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Twelve – The Commitment & The Obligation_

**Rory**

The weekend came and went far too quickly. Come Monday morning, it was time to go home. I was grateful for the small reprieve our brief visit had given us, but I was dreading going back to New Haven, back to the monotonous life James and I had been living for the past few weeks. On the other hand, I was hoping our mini-vacation would put us both in a better frame of mind so we could actually discuss our issues at length and, if all went well, recover from them smoothly.

I was just about done packing when Luke's large frame filled my doorway. He rested his elbow on the door frame and cleared his throat, even though he already had my attention. "Hey, Luke, what's up?" I asked, humouring him.

He cleared his throat again. "I, uh, wanted to ask you something, or rather run something by you," he began hesitantly, gesturing in my direction with one hand.

"Okay, shoot," I replied, sitting on the edge of my bed and patting the spot next to me.

He shook his head. "Nah, I'm good. Uh, I don't really know where to start." I waited, face neutral. After a moment, he just spoke. "Well, anyway, I was thinking about Thanksgiving."

"Yeah?"

"And uh...you know, Thanksgiving is a big deal around here, and it's really important to your mom, which makes it important to me."

"Uh-huh?"

"And Thanksgiving is a time when families, you know, come together, hang out, catch up, that sorta thing."

"Luke? Just spit it out," I said with a wry smile.

He sighed. "I was thinking about inviting Jess here for Thanksgiving," he said quickly.

I nodded, having figured out that that was what he was going to say. "I see."

"You know, it's been awhile since he had a proper visit, and since you two seem to be on pretty good terms, I figured why not. Liz's dying to see him and Doula probably doesn't remember him at all. And it might be nice to have the whole family round the table for a change."

I held a hand up to stop his ranting. "It's okay, Luke. You don't have to rationalize it. I think it's a nice idea." _It's actually probably a terrible fucking idea._

"Really?" His eyebrows disappeared beneath the rim of his baseball cap. "Aw, that's really great. I'm glad you think so." He took a few steps into my room, then, and leaned in towards me in a covert fashion. "I should probably invite his girlfriend, too, right?"

"Uh," I blanched, trying to keep a relatively neutral face. "I suppose?"

"Well, that's the thing to do, right? When your nephew has a significant other, and there's a family gathering, it's customary to invite said significant other along with said nephew? I mean I've never met the girl, none of us have—have you met her?" Figuring it would be easier to lie than explain everything, I shook my head quickly. "Right, well, if they've really been going out for five years, I think it's about damn time she meets his family."

"He may think otherwise," I muttered as Luke turned away, nodding as if he'd finally convinced himself of something.

"What was that?"

"Nothing."

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll give him a call."

"It's over two months away, Luke," I reminded him. "You could...wait?"

"Nah, if I don't give him this much notice he might be able to come up with an excuse not to come." Luke grinned, proud of himself, and left the room.

I sank back onto my bed, letting out a long breath. I tried to picture Nora sat in the dining room of the Dragonfly. Or even in Luke's diner. She just seemed too..._urban _to look any sort of natural anywhere in Stars Hollow. I then pictured her and Jess sat at the same table...with me and James across from them. _Oh, boy_.

I considered sending Jess a text to give him a heads-up. We hadn't spoken since his early morning phone call on Saturday, two days ago. I wasn't sure where we stood regarding the whole communication thing. Was that call just a one-time thing because he needed to talk to somebody? Did it mean we were no longer in a fight? Were we casual enough to text each-other randomly? I realized I had never really texted him before. Would he be different, speaking through small messages typed on small devices? Or would he just be his usual self, and be super irritatingly evasive and cryptic? Knowing how far his mind could take him, I couldn't imagine Jess being able to get many thoughts out in limited characters. He'd be terrible at Twitter.

Finding _Dodger _in my contacts list, I decided to go with the Fuck It route. Opening a new message, I quickly typed:

_Heads-up: Luke wants the WHOLE family together for Thanksgiving. That means you. And Nora. And me. And James. Great, right?!_

I frowned at the message, and then proceeded to mash the backspace button to erase it all forever. I tossed my phone away from me before I did something I really regretted.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"Jess!" Nora cried, nearly bowling me over as she swooped by me with a tray full of empty beer mugs, the top of her head just barely grazing my chin in the close quarters of the kitchen entrance. "You didn't tell me about that huge group that just came in! They've been waiting for nearly ten minutes."

I blinked, trying to figure out what she was talking about. I'd been engrossed in my phone, scrolling through countless e-mails from authors and agents alike. I hadn't really been reading them, I realized—at least, none of the information was sticking in my brain before passing out the opposite ear. It was for the distraction, mostly, something to do with my hands because if I stood still—well, I _couldn't_ stand still. Restlessness was worse than nonchalance. I felt like I hadn't slept properly in weeks. Really, I hadn't. In part because whenever bed time rolled around I found myself the most wide awake as I'd been at any point in the adjoining day, and also in part because Nora's sex drive seemed to have mysteriously skyrocketed since the night-we-don't-talk-about. This used to happen all the time—she'd fuck up, I'd rescue her, she'd fancy me her hero, she'd fuck me till I couldn't keep my eyes open the next day, not to mention _walk_. Not that I was necessarily complaining—sex with Nora had always been like _wow_—but a guy needs his sleep in order to, you know, _function_. And the use of his legs is more often than not ideal.

The little kitten in question was glaring at me, hand on her hip, her expression one of pure sass, as she waited for me to respond. I let out a stupid "Uh—" before she threw up her hand with a disgusted "Oy!" and stalked away to dispose of the tray of soiled glassware in the dish pit. It was one of the few moments that she let the Jew in her come out to play, and to my amusement and dismay, it turned me on.

Generally, things between Nora and me had been good since that night. I _had _insisted on taking her to the hospital the following day, my paranoia earning me many snarls and groans but offering me the comfort and relief I so desperately needed. My nerves had been, for all intents and purposes, shot. And Nora had thankfully been smart enough to know that it was a necessary evil to make doubly sure, even if it involved an IV and nurses poking around her body, that she was okay.

We had talked—oh, we had _talked_—about the incident at length, during which conversation she swore off partying for a _very_ long while. Finding this to be a bit of a stretch, I insisted that she only go out if I were accompanying her, at least for the first little while, until she got her head on straight again. I wanted her to know that I wanted to trust her. Acting like her personal body guard for too long wasn't going to help matters much if at all, and I didn't even want the task, anyway. It pained me to admit it, but I was getting a little old for New York's night life scene.

I didn't even realize my phone was ringing until Isabel snatched it from my hand. "Jess' phone. Here he is." She passed it to me with a shit-eating smirk.

I retorted with a dark glare as she walked away. "Yeah."

"Jess? It's Luke."

"This is a surprise," I said, because it really was. I couldn't remember the last time I'd received a call from Luke Danes.

"Yeah, hey, listen, I wanted to ask you what your plans were for Thanksgiving." Straight to the point, my Uncle Luke. As usual.

I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. It was slowly but surely starting to grow back; a few of the longer bits at the front were already curling around my ears. "Uh, you mean, the Thanksgiving that's like two months from now?"

"Unless you're going to Canada—yes the Thanksgiving that's two months from now!" Luke exclaimed with frustration.

I bit back another laugh, enjoying the banter I had to admit I had missed indulging my uncle in. "No, Uncle Luke, I can't say I have any plans yet."

"Oh, good, great. Well, listen, we—that is, Lorelai and me—were wondering if maybe this year you'd like to join us for Thanksgiving weekend. We always have a big dinner at the Dragonfly with the whole family—and your mom and TJ will be there, and Doula. We, Lorelai and me, we thought it would be nice if you were there, too, considering you are a part of the family, and, well, it's...been awhile."

I realized that that was probably the closest I was ever going to get to an _I miss you _from Luke Danes. It was also painfully obvious that this was not in the least bit Lorelai's idea. He was using that as a cover up; there was no way the older Gilmore woman would want me around, especially if Rory was going to be there. I exhaled loudly. "Ah—"

"Oh, yeah, and bring your girlfriend, too! I was just telling Rory it's about time we meet this girl, I mean you said you've been with her, what, five years?"

"You talked to Rory?" I asked, slightly incredulous.

Luke carried on as if there was nothing odd about that. "Yeah, she was here earlier—they just left, her and James, they were here for the weekend—and I ran it by her to see what she thinks. I wasn't sure where you guys _were_, you know, but she seemed to think it was a nice idea."

I scoffed. "Nice, huh?" _I guess her leprechaun is back in town._

"Yeah! So...whatdya say?"

"I don't know, Luke," I groaned. "To be honest it just kinda seems like a recipe for disaster."

I could hear some clanging in the background and I assumed Luke had entered the storage room of the diner. "Please, Jess," he said relatively quietly. "It's important that you're here this year. It's just—well-Lorelai and I have some news, and I—_we_ want the whole family to be here when we tell you."

I rolled my eyes. "You're getting married."

Luke sputtered on the other end of the line. "Well—I mean—technically we have been married for—"

"Yes, but now you're _actually_ getting married, like with the big ceremony and shit, and you want everyone to be there when you announce it."

"_Damn it_, Jess—"

"Well, okay, then, Luke. Tell you what, since I know now, how about I skip Thanksgiving and I'll see you in town for the wedding?"

"Jess Mariano, so help me god if you do not come for Thanksgiving this year and bring your girlfriend I will personally drive out there and drag your sorry sarcastic butt to Stars Hollow come hell or high water! Oh, and I'll send your girlfriend in a nicer car—don't want her thinking we're a bunch of lunatics."

"Why do you think I've kept her away all this time?" I asked with a roll of my eyes.

"You're coming, and that's final!" Luke shouted. "And bring something nice to wear!" And with that he hung up, loudly.

I let out an exasperated moan-grunt thing and smacked my cell down onto my thigh. It was amazing how much time could go by and Luke still thought he had any say in what I did with my life.

Nora brushed past me, then, with a tray of full drinks this time. She gave me a quizzical look when she saw my expression. I smiled wryly and said through gritted teeth, "So, babe, wanna meet my family at Thanksgiving this year?"

She stared a me for a half a beat, and then her face exploded into a smile. She nearly dropped the tray as she gave me a one-armed hug, squealing in delight. "I thought you would never, ever ask!" she shrieked, then took off to deliver the drinks.

My shoulders sagged when she vanished. _Kill me now._

* * *

><p>I wondered, for probably the millionth time that day, whether or not I really did have an obligation to go to Stars Hollow for Thanksgiving. As I loaded mine and Nora's luggage into the trunk of my black Comet, I thought about my chances of beating Luke in a fight in case he made good on his promise to come get me if I didn't show up. I mean, I'd basically been outlawed from the town about ten years ago. Besides my brief pop-in for the not-wedding, I hadn't seen any of those people in about that amount of time, besides Luke and Rory. Was I <em>really<em> a part of that family anymore?

When we first started dating, Nora had often asked about my family, but she had figured out early on that it was a sensitive topic I seldom liked to discuss. I usually brushed it off with something like _There's nothing to tell _or something along those lines. Eventually she had stopped asking but I knew she'd always resented me a little for it. The family element was severely lacking in both our lives—she may have been looking to my family to fill the void hers had, but unfortunately, that was something I just could not provide her.

Nora plugged her phone into the auxiliary as soon as we started driving, blasting an indie pop playlist on Songza (SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHY HE'S NOT HOME / OH I BET MONEY MONEY MONEY I BET / HE'S AT THE SEXOTHEQUE). It was too cold outside but she rolled down her window anyway, her hair threatening to escape in the violent breeze that whistled through the car. She had dyed the ends of her blood red hair a lovely dark purple; it stood out vibrantly in the drab grey of the November day.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, not wanting to take my eyes off the road for too long. I couldn't quite believe I was taking Nora to _Stars Hollow. _I wasn't quite sure how to feel about it. It was just a _place_, really. A place I had spent some time in when I was a teenager, nothing more. I had spent way more of my life in New York—that was really my _home_. Still, it felt like I was taking Nora to an untouched chapter of my life, a chapter which in its entirety had not been my finest hour. I was baring myself to her in a new way, and it sent an unpleasant tingle to my extremities.

Nora, on the other hand, was ecstatic. She had managed to pry a few stories out of me over the years, and had always expressed an interest in visiting the eclectic town which was the setting for many of my teenage adventures. Really, I think she just wanted to turn another page in the Book of Jess, find out another part of me, or something like that. She had this fantasy that I remained a mysterious unread novel to her, and she had to keep reading me chapter by chapter until she reached the stiff back cover. I had tried to explain to her that certain chapters should just go _unread_. But she persisted still.

As the trees began to give way and the roads became familiar, a pit formed in my gut. I gripped the steering wheel with iron fists, hoping Nora wouldn't notice my anxiety. I debated just making a fucking illegal u-turn and high-tailing it back to Brooklyn, but Nora would hate me for it—and also, it was a divided highway, so fuck me, right?

Nora squealed when she saw the sign for STARS HOLLOW on the side of the road, shooting me a smile. I returned it with as much enthusiasm as I could muster, considering my insides were disappearing into the wormhole in my core. There was no turning back now.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I _loved_ autumn in Stars Hollow. Not too cold, but lacking in the sticky heat that was the Connecticut summer. Golden leaves crunched under our feet as James and I crossed the street into the town square, our arms full of brown paper grocery bags from Doose's. Sookie had sent us out last minute to get some more eggs and other odds and ends. The Dragonfly was a zoo for the holiday weekend, so James and I had been more than willing to escape for a bit. After delivering the groceries, we had headed out once again, hand-in-hand, for a brief walk before the craziness could really start.

As we crossed through the town, I kept scanning my peripherals for anything out of the ordinary—an unrecognizable vehicle, a familiar dark head of hair—but there was nothing, so far. I knew that Jess had confirmed he and Nora were coming, but I had no idea what time they would be arriving. It was already almost four—the sun was beginning to set.

To my dismay, I realized James was leading me into the park, towards the _bridge_. I tried not to bring James there too often—it just contained too many memories of another boy—but he seemed to just be drifting in that direction almost absently, and there was really nothing I could do to stop him without seeming weird.

He stopped me in the middle of the bridge and pulled me to him, folding me into his arms. We stood like that quietly for awhile, him shifting every now and then to press his lips to my head. When we parted, he had an intense look in his usually soft blue eyes. He held my hands in his and looked down at our feet, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully.

"Everything alright?" I asked him.

He swallowed. "I'm a bit nervous," he admitted quietly.

I frowned. "About what?"

"Tonight," he said. "This whole week-end. With _him _coming. And everythin'."

I sighed, lightly brushing his lips with my own. "I'm nervous about that, too."

"Why?" His tone was gentle. Curious.

I shrugged, snuggling closer to James. Why indeed. "It's been awhile since he's been at any kind of gathering here," I said slowly. "And I don't know. I guess I'm just hoping you guys get along. Or are at least civil."

"We don't have the greatest track record so far," James said sheepishly, obviously referring to their phone call while I was in New York. "But I want to like your family, Rory. Your whole family."

I squeezed my arms around his waist. "It'll be fine." Who knew, anymore?

We remained in our silent embrace for a bit longer, then I felt James retreat again. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled his feet. Still nervous. But there was something else. A strange sort of energy in the air between us. He wouldn't look me in the eye. "I, uh."

I waited patiently, trying to keep my amusement off my face. James was so cute when he was nervous.

Finally, he looked up at me, his eyes wet. "Rory, will you marry me?" he asked, his voice like velvet.

My mouth fell open with a soft gasp. "But, we're already—"

"I know," he said, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "But I just felt like I needed to ask again. Make it official. So—will you? Marry me, that is?"

"My answer hasn't changed," I cried, my eyes stinging with tears at his sweetness. "Of _course_ I will marry you, James."

His face broke into a full-on smile and he swept me up into a kiss, pulling me into his body.

I tried not to think about the fact that this bridge, which had always held so much meaning to me, was now marked with a new milestone, unrelated to my teenage memories, and I tried to ignore the weird way my heart seemed to sink a little at that fact.

* * *

><p>AN: This was a bit of a filler chapter. I got sick and wanted to write but wasn't able to put anything particularly weighty together in my condition. I figured it would balance out the last chapter anyway. Next time—Thanksgiving! Please review and tell me what you want to / think is going to happen!


	13. The Thanks

A/N: YOU _GUYS_! MILO FAVOURITED A TWEET I POSTED ON TWITTER! If you don't hear from me for awhile after this chapter, it's because I've DIED. OH MY GOD. Also, I forgot to mention the song in the last chapter. Sexotheque by La Roux. It's been on repeat for hours. I'm so diverse.

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Thirteen – The Thanks_

**Jess**

"I'm just trying to mentally prepare you for what's about to happen," I told Nora, holding onto her wrists as she playfully tried to escape my car. We were sitting parked near the town square, and I was attempting to give her a review of all the reasons why she should never have been so eager to meet my 'family'.

"Jess," she whined, lifting her knees up to her chest and sinking into the seat. "It can't be that bad. Let's just go!"

I unbuckled my seatbelt so as to better lean over her, cupping her cheek with my hand and holding her down with the weight of my shoulder. I lightly kissed her forehead. "I'm serious, Nor," I insisted. "The last thing I want is for you to get pissed at me because I accidentally forgot to mention some tiny detail. I just wanna review before we go any further."

She blew a raspberry and pushed me off of her, sitting up straight in a huff. She peered up at me under her lashes as she swept her mass of hair up into a bun on the very top of her head. "Fine. Go." She took the pencil from behind my ear and used it to secure her hair in place.

I smirked at her choice of hair accessory. "Really?"

"You always have that thing behind your ear," she quipped. "It was begging for a change of scenery."

"Suffocating in your hair is a decent change of scenery?" I raised an eyebrow. "Poor thing. It's gonna get lost in that rat's nest."

She smacked me on the chest with the back of her hand. "Shut up. Talk."

"That's a little contradictory."

"Jess!"

"Fine," I said, grinning at her cheekily. I smacked my palm down on my steering wheel, running my fingers along the seam of the leather as I pieced my thoughts together. "So, there's Luke. He's my uncle. He's the one I lived with for awhile when I was a kid."

"At the diner," she said. As if she would forget any detail I _had_ already told her.

I nodded. "He's my mom's brother."

"Liz."

"Right."

"And she's married to TJ?"

"Yup."

"And they have a daughter...Doula?"

"Bingo." I had to admit, it turned me on a little that Nora remembered so many things about me. It was nice that she cared enough to hang on to every detail I provided her about my life.

She wrinkled her nose. "I'm sorry, but what kind of a name is Doula?"

"I have no idea," I mused, looking sidelong at her. "My mom is weird. I mean, what kind of a name is Jess, for a guy?"

"A sexy one," she said, smiling. "Continue."

"Now..." I paused. Nora knew all about Rory and her part in Luke's life. It just felt even weirder to mention her now, especially after seeing her a couple months ago. "Luke is married to a woman named Lorelai. They've been friends for years, but finally got together about a year after I opened the Philly Truncheon."

"She's Rory's mom, right?" I didn't miss that some of the light had gone from Nora's eyes. I nodded. Nora thought for a minute. "So...your uncle is Rory's stepdad?"

"I guess. Technically."

"So what does that make you two?"

I grimaced. I didn't really like thinking about the fact that Rory and I could now be considered related, however distantly. "Uhh, step-cousins-in-law?"

"Complicated."

"Just a little." I reached for a cigarette and lit up, passing it to Nora when her fingers reached for it. I watched her as she took a drag. "Lorelai's friend Sookie will probably be there—"

"The chef?"

"With her husband, Jackson, and their kids. I know there's three of them, but I honestly can't remember their names right now."

"Okay."

"Besides that, I don't really know who else will be there. Rory's best friend might be. Lane."

"And Zach? They're the ones with twins, right?"

"God, you remember everything, don't you? Hey, do _you_ remember Sookie's kids' names?"

She smacked me again. "Far be it from me to try and remember things! You don't talk about the people you know very often. I gotta savour the information when I get it."

I leaned over and kissed her fully on the mouth then, a flutter arising in my stomach when she moaned lightly in response, one hand burrying itself in my hair while the other reached over her head to flick the cigarette out the window. I increased the urgency of the kiss, the bitter scent of the cigarette mixing with the sweet taste of her lipgloss driving me crazy.

She smiled into the kiss and gently pushed me away, her green eyes gleaming knowingly. "You're not getting off that easy."

"I beg to differ, you sexy thing," I purred, kissing the corner of her mouth.

She rolled her eyes and pushed me away again. "Jess. We are _going_ to see your family! Stop distracting me. Now finish your debrief so we can _go_."

I turned over so as to rest my head in her lap, staring up at her with puppy dog eyes. "Fine." She ran her fingers tantalizingly through my hair as I spoke. "This town is not normal, nor are the people in it. They have weird holiday traditions and even weirder non-holiday traditions. Town events are _town events. _As in, the _entire town _participates in _everything. _They're, like, a cult or something. And everyone is always so _happy_. And everyone _knows_ everyone, and everyone knows everything _about_ everyone else."

"Hmm, seventeen-year-old you must have _loved _this place," Nora said sarcastically, passing me the cigarette.

I took a thoughtful drag. "I hated it. But, I dunno...if you stay long enough, it starts to grow on you. It probably casts an evil spell or something. Makes people stay forever. I was one of the lucky ones—I escaped." I said it jokingly, but I still felt a guilty pang in my gut. As much as I _had_ hated Stars Hollow when it had served as my sanctuary from exile, it felt odd to trash it now. After all, without my time here, I certainly never would have made it to where I was now. And, I wouldn't have met Rory. And I most _definitely _wouldn't be where I was now without having met her.

"You secretly like this place," Nora said with a smile. She gazed lovingly down into my eyes, her thumb gently caressing my hairline. "Admit it."

I blew a tiny stream of smoke into her face. "Never."

She laughed. "Anything else I should know?"

I snapped my fingers. "James."

She frowned. "Who's James? I don't remember you ever mentioning a James."

"Rory's _fianc__é__._"

Her eyes widened. "Ohh. He's going to be there?"

"Of course." I smirked at her. "You mean you don't remember him from the wedding invitation?"

She rolled her eyes. "So I forgot _one_ person. Give me a break. To be honest I kinda forgot she was engaged."

"Yeah, I think she did too." The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. Nora tensed under my weight, a frown creasing her brow. I rushed to explain myself. "I just mean Rory's always been a little indecisive with guys. She gets distracted easily." Fuck, I _really_ wasn't helping my case.

Nora raised an eyebrow. "Distracted?"

"Well, like. She didn't tell James she was in New York over the summer."

"_Why not_?"

I shrugged. "Beats me. They don't seem to have the best communication with each-other."

Nora looked out the window, taking the cigarette from me and dragging on it. "Is there anything else I should know about Rory, Jess?" she asked quietly, avoiding my gaze.

I sat up, sighing, and ran a hand through my already tousled hair. I had let it grow since cutting it all off over the summer, and it was now getting a bit shaggier than I would like; I just hadn't bothered to get it cut. It now resembled something remniscient of the teenage hairstyles in the Beatles era, with straight bangs hanging low over my eyes and it growing longer down my neck and curling around my ears. Somehow I had become Jess, the Beatnik. Man, I really was a hipster. "I've told you all about Rory," I replied. "I know she's kind of a touchy subject for you, Nor, considering our history. But it was a long time ago, and she's a good person. She was a huge influence on my life. I hope you can understand that."

"I know. I do. It's just..." She trailed off, shaking her head.

"What?" I prompted.

She sighed. "It's just that it's sometimes a little intimidating, knowing you've been with a lot of people and that you loved someone before me...and I haven't. Compared to you, I just feel...inexperienced sometimes." I didn't know what to say to that. When I told her so, she just smiled at me ruefully. "It's okay. It's just how I feel. It's silly, but it is what it is."

"How you feel is never silly to me," I replied softly, brushing her chin with the pad of my thumb.

She grabbed my hand and kissed my open palm. "Can we go now?"

I looked at her for a moment, then sighed. "I guess so."

She clapped her hands together excitedly as I put my car in gear and pulled away from the curb, careful to look in my mirrors this time. I still hadn't gotten the dent pulled out of my bumper from the last time I visited Stars Hollow.

When I pulled into the driveway of the Gilmore residence, I thought for one crazy moment that I had pulled into the wrong driveway, that I had somehow forgotten where it was. After a moment, upon recognizing Lorelai's familiar Jeep, Luke's truck and Rory's Prius already parked in the driveway, I realized that I did in fact have the right house. It just _looked_ completely different. The exterior had been repainted and the porch expanded—there was now a stylish sitting area there, complete with a brand new swing and a few other seats. It looked like the upstairs had also undergone some expansion, and someone—most likely Luke—had been gardening up a storm. The property looked like something out of a goddamn home magazine. I wondered fleetingly if they were planning on selling it for some reason, but then I realized this was probably Luke's way of homemaking.

"It's beautiful," Nora breathed, leaning forward to peer at the house through my window.

"It didn't look like this last time I saw it," I remarked. I then realized that the past few times I had come to Stars Hollow—for Rory's not-wedding, for Liz's wedding, and to get my car back—I hadn't actually been to the Gilmore house. I hadn't actually seen the place in over ten years.

I put the car in park and shut it off as Nora unbuckled her seatbelt. We sat there for a few moments in silence. She reached out and took my hand, giving me a knowing look. "You ready?" she asked gently.

"Nope," I admitted, and mentally kicked myself when my voice broke.

She squeezed my hand. "Want to sit for a minute?"

"You were super eager five minutes ago," I said, smiling weakly.

She chuckled. "I know. But I can wait, if you need to."

"No point," I said, shrugging. "Let's get this over with."

We exited the car, opting to leave our bags in the trunk because I figured we would be staying above the diner. In restrospect we should have gone there first to drop stuff off, but I realized Luke had probably closed early for the holiday weekend and was in fact at home cooking dinner. Thanksgiving was tomorrow, but I was willing to bet that the Gilmore-Danes-Belleville clan was planning on dragging the festivities out as long as possible.

As we climbed the steps onto the porch, Nora halted and grabbed my arm suddenly. "Oh, my god," she whispered. "We didn't bring anything."

"What?"

"We're empty handed," she cried, pointing to our respective hands, which were in fact empty, except for my car keys, which I then pocketed. "We are the worst. You don't just show up to dinner and bring nothing to contribute! It's so rude."

I chuckled, touching her back lightly. "Relax. Trust me, they probably already have more than enough food. Sookie would probably take one look at anything we brought and _accidentally _dump it in the trash."

"Still," she mumbled. "Would have been nice to at least make an effort." She took my pencil out of her hair, letting her thick red hair tumble down around her shoulders. She fluffed it for a bit and looked at me. "How do I look?"

I growled and kissed her temple. "Good enough to eat," I whispered.

"Ready?" she asked, giggling.

Nodding, I approached the front door. I could hear their voices from inside; Sookie's boisterous laughter, Lorelai rambling on about something or other while Luke's voice barked some sort of instruction, and kids giggling and screeching. It sounded like some sort of goddamn zoo. I exchanged a look with Nora before raising my fist to the door and knocking.

Predictably, nobody inside heard my knock. Rolling my eyes, I turned the knob and pushed the door open myself. "Hello?" I called out, trying to be heard over the din in the kitchen as we stepped over the threshold into the house.

"Who's that?" Sookie asked. Just then her head popped around the corner. Her eyes practically bugged out of her skull when she saw me. "_Jess_?"

Luke came barelling around the corner at the same time as three kids did—I could only assume they were the Belleville offspring. The oldest one, a boy, looked to be about thirteen, while two younger ones, both girls, were probably about seven and ten, respectively.

"_Jess_?" This was Lorelai's voice from the kitchen, sounding rather incredulous.

Luke wildly gestured at Sookie and the kids to scram before approaching me. "Hey, how you doin'? Glad you could make it." He shook my hand and pulled me in for an awkward man-hug, patting my back rather roughly. Upon pulling away, he regarded me with scrutiny. "You look like Ringo Starr. I've never seen your hair that long."

"Jeez, compare me to the ugliest Beatle," I muttered.

Luke ignored me and turned to Nora. "You must be the girlfriend."

"Nora," she said with a smile, offering her hand.

Luke shook her hand firmly. "Nice to finally meet you. I've heard...well, I haven't heard to be honest. This one's not the best communicator."

"Look who's talking," I grunted, cocking my head to the side as I regarded Luke coolly. "They didn't know I was coming, did they?"

He turned to look in the direction of the kitchen. "Who, them? Yeah, they knew. I mean, they knew you'd been invited. It just kinda donned on me that I never really confirmed whether or not you were _actually_ coming, because, well, you _didn't_, really—confirm, that is."

"Well, your threat over the phone kinda made it seem like I didn't have a choice," I shot back, keeping my voice low.

He sighed, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, whatever, you're here now, that's what counts. Glad you came."

"Again, no choice." As Luke retreated to the kitchen, I helped Nora out of her coat before shrugging off my own, hanging them both up on the hooks by the door. "Last chance to run," I murmured into Nora's ear as we crossed the front entrance towards the kitchen.

She smacked me on the best for the third time that day and let me lead the way into the kitchen. Like the outside of the house, it had also been completely redone. It felt odd, to me—in the limited time I had spent at the Gilmore house, most of it had probably been in the kitchen. Now, it was barely recognizable. The table was laden with dishes, some full, others empty, and the stove was covered with various pots and frying pans all in varying stages of cooking something. It smelled amazing, I had to admit.

God, everyone was looking at me. The room had gone eerily quiet. Sookie and Jackson and their kids, Luke and Lorelai all stared at Nora and me as we stood awkwardly at the kitchen entrance.

Lorelai was sizing me up; I could tell, she, like me, was feeling very awkward and unsure about the situation. She wasn't exactly my biggest fan, and the last time I'd actually had a conversation with her she had pointed out that she wanted to kill me and had then proceeded to rub in my face the fact that Rory was _so over _me.

Luke broke the silence first. "Look who decided to show up. You guys remember Jess."

What a stupid thing to say. I grit my teeth, refraining from once again pointing out that I had had no choice in the matter. I did however manage to bite out, "How on earth could they forget _me_, Uncle Luke?"

"We couldn't," Lorelai said, offering me a tiny smile. "It's nice to see you, Jess."

"Likewise," I said, because as awkward as the situation was, it really was nice to see her, in a weird way. Even though we had never really gotten along, I had always had respect for Lorelai. She was, after all, a single mother, much like my own mom. She had obviously done a better job at raising Rory than Liz had done raising me, so Lorelai was all right in my books. Save the fact that she'd felt she could parent me when I was young, even though she had known nothing about me. The threats on my life after I'd broken her daughter's heart hadn't really helped, either.

She was still surverying me. "You look good. You look old."

I grimaced. "Gee, thanks."

"It's the hair," Luke put in, a smug smirk on his face.

"It's everything," Lorelai corrected. Her gaze as softened, as if she had finally decided she was okay with my presence. "You look good, Jess," she said again.

"Thanks," I murmured. I place a hand on the small of Nora's back, pushing her forward slightly. "This is my girlfriend, Nora. Nora, this is Lorelai, and Sookie and Jackson." She gave them all a shy little wave. It was unlike Nora to be shy, but I guess considering the circumstances it was to be expected. "And...sorry, but I'm totally blanking on your kids' names," I said, looking apologetically to Sookie.

She laughed. "Don't worry, there's so many of them I sometimes forget too!" she chirped. "That's Davey, there, the oldest. And that's Martha, and Cadence. Ellie is upstairs, sleeping. Which reminds me—we should get them up, Lorelai." She threw the dishtowel she'd been holding over her shoulder and beckoned at Lorelai to follow her out of the room. "We'll be right back."

As Lorelai and Sookie exited, I fixed Luke with an inquisitive gaze. "Them?"

"Uh," he stammered, straightening his baseball cap. "Them?"

"There another kid here?"

"Oh!" his eyes went wide. "Yeah! Uh, Emerson's up there, too."

"Emerson?"

Luke looked confused. "Yeah?"

"Who is Emerson?" I asked, impatient.

He looked utterly confused for a moment longer, and then something like horror crossed his face. "You don't _know_?" I shook my head, throwing my hands up in exasperation. Luke took off his cap and ran a hand through his thinning hair, exhaling loudly. "Aw, jeez. I thought we'd told you."

"Told me _what_?" Please don't say he's Rory's kid. Oh please, oh fucking _please_ don't say it.

"Emerson is my son," Luke said finally, bracing his hands on his hips. "Mine and Lorelai's son, that is. He's eighteen months old."

"Eighteen _months_?" I asked incredulously. "He's a _baby_?"

"He was kind of a surprise," Luke admited, his gaze training on the table in front of us instead of on me. "The best surprise there is, really."

His voice had gone all soft. I ran a hand through my hair. The pencil behind my ear fell to the floor with a clatter. "Holy _shit_. Why didn't you tell me I have a new little cousin?"

Luke shrugged. "You weren't around. It just...didn't really occur to me. I'm sorry."

I nodded and stooped to pick up the pencil, tucking it safely back behind my ear. I pulled Nora to me, then, wrapping a reassuring arm around her waist. I suddenly _really_ wanted out of here.

Moments later, Lorelai and Sookie once again emerged in the kitchen, each with an armful of child. Sookie's was still groggy—she looked maybe four or five years old. In Lorelai's arms, though, was a wide-awake baby, his curly dark hair tousled from sleep, his huge Gilmore-blue eyes staring right at me as his mother bounced him gently.

"That's him?" I asked, feeling my grip on Nora loosening.

"That's him," Luke confirmed proudly. "My boy."

I took a tentative step towards the baby in Lorelai's arms, unsure what the boundaries were. Lorelai didn't seem too concerned, though, because she lifted Emerson and placed him directly into my arms. Surprised, I propped him on my hip, leaning back with a smile as he immediately reached for my face. "Hey, buddy," I murmured, the affection in my voice surprising everyone, including me.

"He's adorable," Nora cooed, standing at my elbow and smiling at the baby in my arms. I smirked. She'd always been a sucker for babies.

I watched as Emerson curled all his tiny fingers around Nora's pointer finger as she pulled faces at him. "Where's, uh..." I trailed off, hoping someone would get my drift.

Lorelai knew. "Rory and James went out for a walk. They should be back soon." She turned her gaze to Nora. "So, Nora. Jess has kept you a bit of a mystery to us. What's the story, here?"

As Jackson took the bored-looking kids outside, Nora took a seat at the kitchen table and automatically began helping Sookie with the devilled eggs. I realized that I had unconsciously been bouncing Emerson on my hip. He gripped my shirt tightly; he had a strong grip for such a little guy.

"Well, Jess and I met when I came to a poetry slam in Philly...god, what is it, five years ago now?" She looked to me for confirmation; I nodded. "We hit it off right away, and we've been together ever since."

I knew Lorelai was thinking it; but she wasn't likely to ask, but I could see her studying Nora and doing math in her head. "And what do you do?" she asked instead.

"I write a fashion blog," Nora explained, whiping her long hair back up into a bun. "And I manage the Café below Truncheon."

"Truncheon?"

"My publishing house," I said quickly. "In Manhattan."

"_Your_ publishing house?"

I rolled my eyes. "Guess you don't talk about me much, huh, Uncle Luke?"

Luke glanced over from his position at the sink, pealing potatoes. "Lorelai, I told you about Jess' business."

"I didn't know he _owned_ it," she said with a small laugh. "That's really incredible, Jess."

I shrugged, then winced when Emerson grabbed the pencil behind my ear. It clattered to the floor. "Oops!" I cried, smiling at the tyke.

Lorelai laughed and bent to pick the pencil up. Taking it from her, I pocketed it this time. "Want me to take him?" she asked me.

Somewhat reluctantly, I handed him over. I could feel Nora watching me with curiosity, but I didn't meet her gaze. Didn't want her getting any ideas. I really didn't like kids all that much. This one was just...different.

"So, yeah, we run the place together," Nora continued as Lorelai placed the baby over her shoulder and rocked. "It's actually doing pretty well."

"Glad you guys could make the trip out here," Luke said roughly, glancing over his shoulder again. "Nice that you can get away from a business you own."

"We have awesome staff who all live in New York," Nora explained. "They were okay with covering for those of us who had to travel."

My head snapped up on impulse when the front door slammed. "Hello?" called a familiar voice.

"In the kitchen," Lorelai called back. She met my eyes for a brief moment, giving me a knowing look.

I went and stood behind Nora's chair, brushing the hollow of her ear with my fingertips. She glanced up at me and gave a reassuring smile, reaching up to squeeze my hand before returning to the devilled eggs.

"Oh—hi," Rory breathed as she and James entered the room. "You're here." Her eyes landed on me, and I got a sinking feeling remniscient of forgetting to put pants on before leaving the house. I let my gaze drop to the table.

"They were on time," Luke chimed in with a grin. "Can you believe it? Jess, on time."

"It's not that unbelievable," I muttered, shifting my weight uncomfortably.

James stepped forward, eyeing me. He was taller than I had pictured; not Dean's height, but he definitely had a few inches on me. His blond hair lay in loose curls on his head, and his Crest-worthy smile didn't quite reach his blue eyes. "I'm James," he said, offering me his hand to shake.

I took it, gripping his hand a little tighter than I normally would have in a handshake. "Jess." As I let go of his hand, I watched smugly as he flexed his fingers once before stuffing his hand into his pocket.

"Nice to meet you, mate." James lowered his gaze to Nora.

"Nora," she said, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you. Hi, Rory," she added, merely glancing in Rory's direction.

Lorelai, Luke and Sookie were glancing between the four of us as if watching a tennis match. The tension in the air was thicker than butter, and they all looked extremely uncomfortable. Finally, Lorelai spoke. "Okay, is someone going to tell me what the heck is going on here? You've met?" She directed that question to Rory and Nora.

Rory opened her mouth to speak, but Nora chimed in first. "Oh, yeah, in New York. Briefly," she added, flashing her most charming smile.

Knowing she was caught, Rory rushed to catch up. "Yeah, very briefly. Hi."

Nora kept smiling. "Hi."

"Jesus _Christ_," I blurted out, knocking my fist against the back of Nora's chair. "Does anybody in this goddamn family tell the fucking _truth_?"

That shocked the room into silence. Everyone's eyes were on me, even Emerson's. Pushing off Nora's chair, I strode from the room, calling over my shoulder, "I'm gonna show Nora around." I heard her muttered apology and her chair scrape back as she rushed to follow me out the door.

* * *

><p>"Jess," she called after me as I stalked down the Gilmore driveway to my car. She caught up to me as I struggled to turn my key in the lock. "What the hell?" She was exasperated, I could see it all over her face. Probably embarrassed, too. She slapped her arms against her sides, waiting for my reply.<p>

I paused, leaning my palm againt the door of my car, taking deep breaths. "There's a reason why I never brought you here, Nor," I said quietly. "I just...I can't stand it."

"We were doing fine until you exploded!" she accused, rolling her eyes skyward.

"_Fine_?" I spat. "You call that ridiculous awkward tension _fine_? Not to mention the fact that Lorelai, Luke and Sookie had no fucking _clue_ what was going on. Rory didn't tell them _anything_." I turned sharply and leaned back against the car, playing with my keys. "God, you know, she never used to lie about anything. And when she did, she was fucking bad at it. Everyone knew. I don't know what's changed, but now lying seems to be her favourite passtime."

Nora folded her arms over her chest. "It's not lying so much as withholding information. You're probably a touchy subject around here," she added bitterly.

I glared at her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, Jess," Nora sighed, the fight seeping out of her. "It means nothing." As a silence followed, she looked down at her feet, toeing the ground awkwardly. "Did you even tell them about me?"

"I told them I was bringing you," I said. "I wasn't going to just show up with an extra guest. I'm not that rude."

"I don't just mean for Thanksgiving." Her voice was low, soft. Expecting the worst from me, as usual. "Did they know about me at all, before this?"

I took a breath, glancing at her, and sucked my bottom lip into my mouth. "Yes."

"They knew nothing about me."

"I didn't tell them much."

"Why not?"

"Because," I snapped, throwing my hands out in front of me. "Because, Nora. I don't _talk_ to these people. This is the most I have—literally—in almost _nine years_. I didn't even know Luke had had a fucking _baby_ for Chrissakes."

Nora frowned. "It bothers you," she said.

I shook my head. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"No, I do," she insisted. "It bothers you that Rory didn't tell her folks she saw you. It bothers you that Luke didn't tell you about Emerson. It bothers you that no one knew you'd been invited to the wedding. You _miss_ them, at least sometimes. Admit it." She took my hand, lacing our fingers together and tugging so that I would look at her. "There's nothing _wrong_ with missing your family, Jess. There's nothing wrong with regretting the way things have been. There's still time to change it, reconnect."

"You don't know," I repeated, looking down at the ground and taking my hand out of hers. "You just don't."

She gave me a long look, her full lips set in a hard line. When she looked away, she was shaking her head.

We stayed like that for a moment, each stewing in our respective emotions. I mostly just felt numb. I hated this. I hated being here, I hated the situation. I hated subjecting Nora to the dysfunction that was my previous life. I hated James' fucking face. I hated the helpless look Rory had given me, silently begging for me to go along with her stupid games. Fucking _why_ whenever Rory was concerned did I always end up feeling like a dirty little secret?

God, she hadn't even met my _fucking_ mother yet, and already every fibre of my being was screaming to get the fuck out of town. What was it about Stars Hollow that always gave me the incredible urge to flee?

"I'm sorry," I finally said, my hands in my pockets. "We shouldn't have come here."

She sniffed, and I realized with an inward groan that she had been fighting tears this whole time. "I wanted to come," she whispered, wiping her eyes with her thumb. "I want to know your family."

"Nora, _I _don't even know my family," I said softly, turning to face her and cupping her face in my hands. "What does it matter anyway? It's not like they're a part of me anymore."

She shook her head, blinking furiously to clear away the tears in her eyes. "They're more than I've got," she said evenly, looking me right in the eye.

I closed my eyes. Just like that, I was the asshole. Again.

Folding her into my arms, I pressed her to me, gently rubbing her back as she clung to my shirt. Kissing the top of her head, I pulled away a little, looking down at her. "Come on," I said, sliding my hands down her arms to twine my fingers with hers. "There's a place I really want to show you."

* * *

><p>AN: This chapter was a BEAST. Sorry it took so long. Got distracted and this just took me forever for some reason. Anyway, the next one will be all or mostly Rory. I don't know how I ended up staying in Jess' POV for this whole one, but I generally just prefer writing as him, anyway. Please review! The next chapter should be up sooner than this one was.


	14. The Giving

A/N: Thank you for the reviews on the last chapter, folks!

**Eight and a Half**

by Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Fourteen – The Giving_

**Rory**

"Well, that didn't take long," Luke said, being the first to break the long silence following Jess' abrupt departure. He wiped his hands on a tea towel and then threw said towel roughly down onto the counter. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

"It was a _great_ idea," Lorelai said, placing a reassuring hand on Luke's arm. "It's gotta be weird for him. Give it time."

"How much time?" Luke demanded, shaking Lorelai off and heading for the back door. "It's been eight and a half goddamn years. I need some air." The door banged shut behind him.

Sookie, sensing that this was probably a family discussion, took Emerson from Lorelai and vacated the kitchen. I could hear her cooing at Emerson in the living room and saying hello to Paul Anka, who now doubt was curled up asleep by the fireplace.

My mother fixed me with her telltale piercing stare. "Wanna explain what just happened?" she asked. "Everything was fine before you two came in."

"It's a long story," I said, biting my lip. Lorelai folded her arms to show she wasn't going anywhere. I sighed. "The four of us have all already kind of...met, in a way," I began, knowing Lorelai would understand which four I was talking about. "When I went to New York to write that review for the _Times, _I met up with Jess for a drink. For one reason or another, I didn't tell James, and Jess didn't tell Nora, so there was a bit of drama...I won't go into gory details. But I'm pretty sure Nora hates me and I'm sure James isn't Jess' biggest fan. And Jess and I are...well, no less complicated than we ever have been." I felt James stiffen behind me; I had almost forgotten he was there.

"I see," Lorelai said slowly, her eyes narrowing. "And you couldn't have mentioned this _before_ Luke invited them here? Could have prevented this shit storm. Or at least we would have been prepared for it."

It was weird to think that Lorelai had grown up at the same time I had. Maybe it was because she was married now and had a young child to take care of, but she was a lot more straight-laced and mature than she'd ever been when I was younger. In that moment, as she stared me down in the kitchen, I was feeling far more 'mothered' than I ever had been in my life.

I shrugged helplessly. "I could tell Luke really wanted to invite him. It was a big deal for him. I didn't want to spoil that. I thought we could all behave ourselves for a weekend," I added somewhat bitterly. "I guess Jess just got sick of the secrets."

"Can't say I blame him, kiddo." Lorelai sighed, pushing a hand through her dark curls. "How are we going to make this right?"

I chewed on my bottom lip, looking to James. He just stared evenly back at me, his face blank. Finally, I sighed again. "I'll go talk to Luke."

I reached into the fridge for a couple of beers and followed Luke out onto the back porch. He was leaning against the railing, glaring out into the yard, his jaw working as he fumed. I stood next to him and passed him a beer, which he promptly opened by cracking the cap off on the banister. He passed that one to me before opening the other in a similar fashion and sipping from it.

We sipped in silence for a moment before I finally got the nerve up to speak. "You miss him, huh?"

Luke scoffed halfheartedly. He paused for a moment before answering. "I always believed in him, you know? You and me both. It's a shame we were the only ones."

"We're not anymore," I pointed out gently, touched that Luke was being so open with me. "He's done really well for himself."

"Rory, uh..." He scratched behind his ear nervously. "I know you and Jess have a...complicated history. I know it's hard for you two to...see each-other, be around each-other. Now, I've never complained. I've respected you both, all these years. But, it's been hard. He was...he was like a son, to me."

I suddenly felt tears prick at my eyes as guilt brought my heart leaping into my throat. "Luke..."

He held up a hand and took a sip of beer. "Don't get all sad. It's fine. I was just really hoping we could make it work."

"We can," I insist, laying a hand on Luke's. "And I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize that this meant this much to you, Jess being here. I should have, I guess. I was being selfish."

He shrugged, clearing his throat gruffly. "Maybe talk to him," he said, "please?"

I sighed. "I'll do my best."

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"So...this is it," Nora said, glancing around at the place I had taken her to.

I quirked an eyebrow. "Not what you were expecting?"

"No...exactly what I was expecting, actually," she said with a small smile. "I can _totally _see teenage you here."

"You don't even know what teenaged me looked like," I retorted, walking around the counter of Luke's Diner to put a pot of coffee on for us. Predictably, the spare key had remained in the same spot all these years; I had let myself and Nora into the closed diner upon leaving the Gilmore house. I had originally planned on just taking her on a brief tour of the town, but had decided against it for fear of ending up in the park. Besides, she had been raring to see the Diner since I'd first mentioned it years ago, and it was a lot more pleasant in here with it being just the two of us.

Nora seated herself at the counter, her eyes still darting around, taking everything in. "It's so..._eclectic_," she said, her eyes shining when she looked at me. "You could write a book about this place."

I scoffed. "Yeah, I can see it now. _The Life and Times of the Typical Small-Town Diner Run by a Vegan Celiac Flannel-Wearing Ball-Cap-Donning Man in his Forties. _That'll do well on the _Times' _Best Sellers List."

Nora gave me what could very well be the most dramatic eye-roll in the history of the world. "That just sounds _Pulitzer-worthy_."

Even though I was turned away from her, I smirked. I poured us each a mug of coffee and passed her one, leaning towards her, my elbows on the counter. She sipped it, sighing appreciatively. "Aren't you gonna show me the upstairs?"

I grimaced. "Better not. I've no idea what state it's in. Don't think Luke would appreciate it," I added, realizing how very true that probably was.

She pouted. "But I wanna see where teenaged Jess had his many tortured sleepless nights while hating the world and reading Vonnegut." But she smiled, reaching out to brush my long bangs out of my eyes.

"Don't say it," I quipped, knowing what was on the tip of her tongue. "I know I need a haircut."

"Actually," she said, studying me for a moment. "I think I like it like this." She played with it a bit, her tongue poking out of her mouth slightly as she manipulated my hair. A warm tingly sensation ran through my body, causing me to shiver. She giggled. "You look like one of those revolutionary students from the sixties."

I groan, reaching up to mess up what she had just done with my hair. She screeched in protest and attempted to grab my hands to stop me, but I backed away, warding off her flailing hands. But I couldn't resist smiling as she launched herself over the counter; I could see her little legs kicking for leverage as she reached for me. Folding my arms over my chest, I just watched her amusedly, leaning back against the back counter with one eyebrow cocked.

Finally, Nora gives up, sitting back down with a huff. "It looked so sexy, then you messed it up."

I chuckled, giving her my most winning crooked smile. "Revolutionary, huh?"

She nodded, her eyes full of mischief. I came forward to plant a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose. She sighed appreciatively, a small smile on her full lips. I counted the freckles dusting the bridge of her nose and under her eyes as she glanced around me, her gaze landing on the cork board to the left of the kitchen door. Pushing herself off the stool, she moved to look at the old photographs still mounted there. I came up to wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my chin on the top of her head. Studying the board, I couldn't believe the stuff was still up there. Including—

"Oh my god." I reached out but Nora beat me to it, snatching the photo from the board and darting away behind the counter gleefully. "Oh my god!" she shrieked again.

"Stop," I grunted, chasing after her.

She evaded me, running around the opposite end of the counter, her gaze remaining firmly on the photo in her hands. She read it aloud, still avoiding my reach. "_Walmart Employee of the _Month?!" she cried, whirling away from my grasp once more. We had made a full circle of the counter and were now back to the bulletin board. "_Jesse _Mariano?!"

I pinned her against the wall; she held the photo high above her head but I easily snatched it from her fingers. She barely cleared my shoulder, and I wasn't a necessarily tall guy. She was giggling uncontrollably. "You worked at Walmart?" she asked incredulously. "You got employee of the month?! AND YOUR FULL NAME IS JESSE?!"

I grimaced, rolling my eyes. "It was a misprint."

"Bullshit," she squealed. "It _is_ Jesse, isn't it? How did I not know this?"

"Because no one does," I groaned. "Seriously. Besides, like, my mom."

She paused, biting her lip. "Not even Rory?"

I closed my eyes and exhaled. "No. Not even Rory."

Pleased, she ducked out from underneath my arm, dancing around the counter as I glanced at the picture in my hands. I was about to pocket it or throw it away or something, but then I remembered Luke, and I just couldn't do it. Reluctantly, I pin the offending image back onto the bulletin board.

Finguring it was safe to approach me without reprimand, Nora came to stand next to me again, and we looked at the board together. I placed an arm around her shoulders as my mind connected some of the pictures to memories I hadn't dug out in a long time. Most of them were of various people from the town in the Diner—and most of _those_ were of Lorelai and or Rory. There was one of Rory when she had to have been about thirteen, blowing out the candles on a huge birthday cake, surrounded by friends and family. There was one of Lorelai, Luke, Rory and Lane in the town square, all smiling at the camera as they worked on building their snowman sculpture for the ridiculous annual Winter Carnival. There was one of Liz, TJ and Doula when she was still a baby. There were even a few of me.

My eyes focused on those ones, and I felt a strange sort of sentimentality that Luke had bothered to keep any trace of me around the place. Besides the Walmart one, there was a photo of me looking less than impressed as Miss Patty planted a kiss on my cheek. There was a candid one of me sitting on the bridge reading a book; I had no idea who had taken it or when, but I certainly hadn't noticed I was being photographed at the time.

And then, there it was—a photo of me and Rory, arms around each-other, sitting on the front steps of the Gilmore house, looking flushed and in love in the winter morning. Rory was beaming at the camera, her eyes a shocking shade of blue, and I was looking at her. My face was close to hers, a small but genuine smile quirking the corner of my mouth upwards, and my expression was the warmest I had ever seen it.

I drew a sharp intake of breath as Nora's finger brushed the corner of the photo of me on the bridge. Either she hadn't seen the one of me and Rory yet, or she was saving it for last. "Where is this?" she asked.

"In the park," I replied vaguely. I didn't want to take her there. It was too full of memories, good and bad.

She only nodded, her gaze trailing over the other photos. She chuckled lightly when she saw the one of me and Miss Patty. "Who's that?"

"Miss Patty," I said. "Crazy dance teacher."

"Ah." Finally, her fingers found me and Rory. She paused, breathing evenly for a few moments. "How you're looking at her..."

"I was probably teasing her," I deadpanned with a short laugh, shifting my weight behind Nora.

Nora didn't laugh. "You look like you're in love."

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. I closed them instead. "I was." There was no point in denying it. I shrugged. "I don't know if I realized it at the time," I added. "But yeah. I was."

"Was." She looked down so that her hair slid forward, hiding her face.

"Yes. Was."

Before she could say anything else, I heard the door to the diner jingle as someone attempted to open it. I had locked to door so it remained shut. When we turned, I saw Rory standing under the awning light, peering into the Diner at us, her expression one of pure sheepishness. She gave a small wave.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I felt my whole body tense as Jess opened the door for me. He didn't, however, make any move to let me inside. "Yeah?" he asked curtly.

"Um." I bit my lip. "Dinner's ready."

His eyes narrowed slightly and he leaned his elbow on the doorframe. "Okay," was all he said.

I glanced around expectantly, trying to muster up any courage I still had left in me. I could feel Nora's piercing gaze from over Jess' shoulder. "Can we...talk?" I asked, my voice a squeaky whisper.

"Sure." He didn't move. I knew he expected me to say what I had to say, then and there.

But I couldn't. "In private," I added under my breath.

He pursed his lips. "You can say whatever you have to say in front of Nora."

"Jess." I looked at him pleadingly. "Please. It's about Luke."

He stared at me for a long moment before rolling his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder. "Be right back, Nor. Two minutes."

We went around the corner of the building, but Jess stopped in front of the window. The blinds of the diner were drawn but weren't shut; Nora could totally see us through the window. I was uncomfortable with that, but considering the circumstances, Jess probably thought it was necessary. Glancing inside, I saw Nora standing by the wall of photos inside the Diner. "Taking her down memory lane, huh?" I asked as casually as I could. It sounded ridiculous and we both knew it.

Jess rolled his eyes again. "What do you want, Rory?" He used my name. He must be really annoyed.

I matched his stance, folding my arms over my torso. "Look, I know you and I aren't on the best of terms right now," I began, ignoring his indignant scoff. "But this dinner is really important to Luke. He's anxious to have the whole family here, and he has prepared this incredible meal, and he really wants to just have a nice pleasant evening an catch up with everyone."

"Sounds _great_," he replied sarcasticaly, his dark hazel eyes darting around nonchalantly.

I continued, refusing to be phased by his blazen attitude. "So, let's just you and I make a truce right now to behave ourselves for the next four hours. Get through this dinner. Then we don't have to see each-other again, probably for another eight and a half years."

He looked at me sharply, his breath hitching. Was that a flash of panic in his previously calm demeanor? But it was gone the next instant; now he just looked pissed. "You're unbelievable, you know that?" he sneered, his voice low and rough.

"Says the one who just caused a scene and stormed out of my house for no reason," I snapped back, my hands clenching into fists under my biceps.

His eyes widened with anger. "Because I was sick of hearing the endless stream of bullshit coming from your mouth!" he bellowed.

"My mouth—what did I _do_?" I cried. "What did I say that made you so mad? I didn't _lie_ about anything."

"You didn't tell the truth, either," he shot back, looking away again, shaking his head. "You didn't tell _anyone_ that you saw me in New York. Are you that ashamed, Rory? Am I some sort of—dirty _secret_ of yours?" He spat out _secret _as if it tasted bitterly of arsenic.

I felt my face flush with heat at his choice of words, and was furious with myself for having such a strong reaction. I pushed my hair out of my face indignantly, not caring that it screwed up my bangs. "That's rich, Jess. Really." My words were acid on my tongue.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. _Say what you have to say_," he spat.

"_You_ kissed _me_, Jess!" I yelled, my hands coming up to push on his chest, sending him stepping back a bit. "_Twice,_" I added for good measure. "You let me think—you—"

"Would you keep your voice down?" he said in harsh whisper, glancing anxiously into the Diner. "As I recall, I wasn't exactly _alone_ in the kissing activity. Don't put this all on me!"

I shook my head, reeling with anger. "I _so_ do not want to have this conversation right now."

"You started this conversation!" I cried out exasperatedly, throwing his hands up. "You literally just brought this up now!"

"Only because you accused me of keeping you some sort of secret," I retorted, folding my arms once again.

He seethed, his eyes on fire. "Is that not what I am to you, Rory? Because if it is, I gotta say, I'm flattered, really. You seeing me is just such _exclusive_ information that you don't even tell your own _mother_, let alone your fucking fiancé!"

I had had enough. "You _know_ you mean more to me than that!" I screamed.

_That _shut him up. He glared at me, nostrils flaring with rage. I could see the cogs turning in his brain. His hair was curling around his ears, starting to matt where he had begun to sweat from anger.

I softened my voice now that I had his attention. "Look, I don't want to fight with you anymore. All I want is to make Luke happy and keep all thoughts of you safely _out_ of my head." I pause, contemplating my next words. "But the latter has proven to be quite the impossible task."

He continued to breathe deeply for a few moments, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking at his feet. "I know," he murmured finally. "I know it has. For me, too."

Just like that, we'd reached a stalemate. I went along with the more tender turn of events. "Look, I'm sorry, Jess. I'm sorry I invited you to my wedding, I'm sorry I went for drinks with you. I'm...I'm sorry I kissed you. Twice." Now we were both looking at our feet.

"Are you?" he asked softly. "Sorry. That we kissed. Really?"

I bit my lip. "For the implications it has on our personal lives, yes," I explained quietly. "But as far as the action itself is concerned..." I shrugged. "I don't know. It...brought back a lot."

He nodded, lifting his eyes but still not quite meeting my gaze. "It sure did."

I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I knew Nora could still see us. I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets for good measure. It was just as well, because as soon as I did my phone began to ring in my pocket. I drew it out, glancing apologetically to Jess. He jerked one shoulder up and turned away from me, peering at Nora through the window. I couldn't see his expression, but she wasn't looking back at him.

"Hello?"

"Rory Gilmore?"

"Yes. Speaking?"

"Hi, Rory. This is Tucker Mansbridge from the _New York Times._"

My eyes widened as I nearly dropped my phone. Jess looked over, face blank. "Mr. Mansbridge! Uh—Tucker, sorry. Wow, nice to hear from you!"

He chuckled goodnaturedly. "Nice to hear that it's nice to hear! Listen, I know it was a while ago that you wrote that review for us for _The Tired Heart, _but as it turns out, the play is now being mounted _on _Broadway."

"Oh, really? That's great," I said, licking my suddenly dry lips.

"Indeed," he replied happily. "Anyway, our usual reviewer is still on mat leave and her replacement has been...well, less than satisfactory. The play opens in a couple of weeks and I was wondering, since you did such an excellent job with the off-Broadway review, if you wouldn't mind reviewing the on-Broadway mounting as well?"

I very nearly squealed with joy. Jess was watching me, faint traces of amusement lingering in his molten hazel eyes. Questioning. I held up a hand for him to wait. "You have no idea how much I would _love_ to do that," I told Tucker.

He laughed. "Love the enthusiasm! That's not all, though. The woman who is on mat leave will likely be moving to California once the kid is born, so we are in fact looking for a more permanent replacement." He paused for what I was sure was dramatic effect. "The department wanted me to wait until you write this review before I offer you the position, but there's just too much stuff happening in the city right now to wait. So, basically, if you want the job—it's yours. As of—after the holiday."

I leaned against the window, because I was certain my legs were about to give way. "Oh my god." The words were out before I could help them. "Yes! Yes, of course—oh my _god_!" I was full on squealing now, bouncing around on the balls of my feet. "Thank you _so much_!" Rufus was going to _kill_ me. Then resurrect me to do a little dance around the office. Then kill me again.

Tucker was chuckling on the other end. "Well, that's great! I'll have my people contact your people, and we'll chat on Tuesday. Happy Thanksgiving, Rory."

I whispered a breathless good-bye and hung up, and before I could stop it I launched myself into Jess' arms, squealing in delight. Surprised, he took a couple steps back, his arms instinctively wrapping around me. Feeling my face flush at the inappropriateness of what was happening, I pulled away, but kept smiling and bouncing. "Jess! That was the _New York Times. _I got a job at the _New York Times_!" I cried, waving my hands around in the air.

He raised an eyebrow, confused. "Didn't you write for them already?"

"This is a permanent job, Jess! I'm their official Broadway drama reviewer!"

Before he can respond, Nora emerges from the Diner, joining us on the sidewalk. "What on earth is happening out here?" she asked, smiling slightly as she watched me dance around. "One minute you're yelling at each-other, then you're freaking out and dancing."

"If you can call that dancing," Jess added with a smirk.

I beamed at the two of them, all previous anxiety and awkwardness completely overshadowed by the pure joy I felt. "I got a job at the _New York Times,_" I told Nora gleefully.

Her eyebrows lifted inquisitively. "Wow, that's amazing," she said. "Congratulations!"

I looked to Jess somewhat expectantly, but he said nothing, just stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Sorry for, like, launching myself on you just now," I said with an apologetic smile.

He pulled his upper lip down with his teeth. "Why don't you go hug your fiancé instead?" he asked. "I'm sure your family is going to want to hear the news."

"Jess," Nora chided, elbowing him in the ribs, "congratulate your friend. Come on. This is a big deal."

I wasn't sure if Nora was being sincere or condescending, but I didn't care either way. I just shrugged. "Jess doesn't say anything he doesn't mean," I said.

Jess frowned. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"I didn't say anything."

I raised my eyebrows pointedly. "Exactly."

He rolled his eyes. Nora moved back towards the diner. "We should lock up," she said, obviously trying to pull Jess away.

He regarded me coolly. "We done here?"

My face fell, realizing he really wasn't playing along with the banter. "You're seriously not going to say anything about this job?" I asked incredulously. When he didn't say anything, I just scoffed. "Wow. Fine. Whatever. Dinner's ready. _Behave_." With that I turned on my heel and left him on the sidewalk.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

As the six of us squeezed ourselves around the Gilmore-Danes' kitchen table (Sookie and family had taken off for the night, and Emerson was in a high chair off to the side), I found myself wishing for just awkward silence instead of the mundance conversation that was darting around the table. It was mostly Lorelai and James talking while the rest of us listened, nodding and hmming and haaaing whenever necessary. I found myself tending to my baby cousin mostly, spooning mush into his mouth which he would ultimately just push back out onto his lips. It was frustrating, but I couldn't deny the infant's charm.

I only started paying attention when I heard my name. Looking up, I saw that everyone was looking at me amusedly. "What?"

"James was just asking what it is you do in New York," Lorelai piped up, a gleam in her eye. James himself, seated across from me, was leaning towards me expectantly.

I sat back in my seat, careful not to drop Emerson's tiny plastic spoon. "I run a publishing company. And co-manage the bar below it."

"He's being modest," Nora said, her hand finding my knee under the table. "He _owns_ the publishing company. And he practically manages the whole business side of the bar. I just manage the staff and organize events."

"I co-own it," I corrected her. "I got buddies in Philadelphia who helped set up the first branch there."

"Philadelphia?" James scooped a forkful of mashed _faux_-tatoes onto his utensil. "You from there?"

My eyes flicker to Rory for the briefest of moments, then back to James. "No. From New York originally. I just lived in Philly for a couple years."

"Was that before or after you lived here?" James put the food in his mouth, and I hated the way he fucking chewed.

My jaw clenched slightly. "After."

He nodded, swallowing before speaking. "So, what was a New York boy doin' here in Stars Hollow? It must have been quite the culture shock."

A general sense of discomfort blanketed the table as everyone picked at their food. I kept my eyes firmly locked with James'. "Wasn't so bad."

The corner of his mouth twitched. "You get into trouble or somethin'?"

"His mom wanted him to spend some time outside of the city," Luke jumped in rather defensively, surprising everyone. "Figured it would be good for his character to mingle with a more close-knit community for awhile."

James chuckled, relenting, but that goddamn smirk was still on his face. "Fair enough," was all he said.

I noticed Rory giving Luke an appreciative glance across the table. I tried to meet her gaze but she wouldn't look at me.

Nora piped up suddenly. "What about you, James? How did you and Rory meet?"

He draped his arm over the back of Rory's chair, dipping his head down towards her. "D'you want to tell, or shall I?"

She nodded, struggling to swallow her food. "You can."

James sat back in his chair. "I met Rory when she was reviewing a show at the theatre I work at in New Haven..."

I turned him out, turning once again to baby Emerson. The kid was currently smearing the food that had spilled on the tray all over said tray and himself. I reached for a wet wipe and attempted to clean up the mess. As James went into detail about the many ways in which he had wooed Rory, Emerson promptly spat up all over his shirt front, interrupting James' story.

"Uh oh!" Lorelai cooed, smiling at her son. She reached for him, but I beat her to it, lifting Emerson out of the high chair as I stood up.

"I got it," I told her. I could feel everyone's gaze on me as I carried Emerson upstairs with the aim of cleaning him up and maybe just getting away from that fucking table for a while.

Safely inside the nursery, I laid Emerson down on the change table and poked through the drawers until I found a clean shirt for him. I realized he had mostly spat up on the bib he was wearing, but some had gotten on his shirt. I pretended like I had a fucking clue what I was doing; I removed the bib and just set it aside, not knowing what to do with it. Then I removed his soiled shirt, setting it with the bib, and pushed the clean shirt over his head, gently tugging his arms through the arm holes. He was blowing bubbles and gargling nonsensically as I worked, and I smiled down at him, something melting inside of me whenever he met my gaze and stared at me with those piercing Gilmore eyes.

I jumped when I saw Lorelai watching me from the doorway. She had a soft but amused look on her face as she watched me lean over her squirming son. My finger was being held captive by Emerson's fist, which he was attempting to stuff into his mouth. "You're a natural," she said, and I couldn't figure out her tone of voice. Was that awe?

"Uh, thanks?" I said, not sure what she meant.

She nodded towards her son. "With him. Seems like you know what you're doing."

"That's cool," I replied, "because I really don't." Upon her skeptical look, I shrugged. "I changed Doula's diapers a few times. No big deal."

"Uh-huh." She didn't believe me for whatever reason. "Jess Mariano likes babies." She tasted the words in her mouth, her lips contorting into a weird shape as she did so.

I rolled my eyes. "I do not. Just this one," I admitted. "He's my blood, after all."

Lorelai wrinkled her nose. "That's weird."

I nodded. "That it is."

She walked over to stand beside me, and we both stood just watching Emerson for a few moments. I sensed her looking at me but wouldn't meet her gaze. "I'm sorry, Jess," she said quietly.

I raised my eyebrow. "For what?"

"For Luke making you come here. I know it must be hard for you."

"Why's that?"

She looked back at Emerson, shrugging. "I know this isn't your favourite place in the world. And I know things with you and Rory are probably still complicated. And it's incredibly awkward, having the two of you here, especially with your respective significant others here, too. I get it." She touched my arm, then, and it felt strangely comforting. "You and I have never been friends, Jess. But I guess—technically—we are kind of related now. And I just hope that if you are going to be coming around more often—and I'm not encouraging you either way, that's your decision to make—that maybe things will become less...awkward...as time goes on."

"Thank you," I said, and it was probably the most sincere thing I had said all day. "That actually means alot."

She turned to go, but before she left she addressed me once more. "Oh, and Jess?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd better be careful the way you look at my daughter. Someday, the wrong person is going to notice." And with that, she left me there with Emerson, who promptly began to cry.

* * *

><p>AN: I hope that was enough R/J interaction! There should be much more in chapters to come! Please review and let me know your thoughts!


	15. The Move & The Reaching Out

A/N: I'm overwhelmed by the reaction to the last chapter! Thanks everybody; I'm glad you liked it so much! I actually just wrote a little ficlet involving Jess, Rory and lots of cuddling. It's called "Cuddle Up To Me", feel free to check it out and maybe leave a review?

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Fifteen – The Move & The Reaching Out_

**Rory**

I knew I was shamelessly staring, but I couldn't help it. Jess was spoon feeding Emerson again, as he had last night, but this time it was actually Thanksgiving and we were at the Dragonfly and there were so many people and so many voices talking all at once—but Jess was just with Emerson, and he was feeding him, and I got the strangest, warmest feeling in my gut. Jess looked significantly more relaxed than he had been before dinner, a private smile on his face as he made plane sounds while shoving food in Emerson's tiny mouth. I had to admit that watching him with Emerson was incredible and strange; I'd never pegged Jess as the type to like babies, let alone the fact that the mixture of Gilmore and Danes genes in the child sent my mind to all sorts of new and unexplored places. My half brother now served as a sort of blood tie between Jess and me, and frankly, it was a little overwhelming. With his dark hair and blue eyes, he could just as easily be mine and Jess' child as he was Luke and Lorelai's. _Strange_. So very strange.

Lorelai met my gaze from well on the other side of the table, a knowing smile on her face. She was watching Jess, too; in fact, everyone kind of was out of the corner of their eye. Nora was chatting away with Sookie, but every now and then she would glance over at her boyfriend approvingly, her lush green eyes sparkling in the dim light. This whole night was just odd.

I gripped James' knee under the table, feeling the weight of the ring on my left hand ring finger. Of course, I hadn't taken it off since getting engaged, but now that we were engaged—again—and had set a date, I was getting the thrill of telling the family all over again. August first, twenty-fifteen. Almost exactly a year after we were _supposed_ to get married. I tried to push all thoughts of Jess and genetics out of my mind as a lull arrived in the conversation and I geared up to make our announcement.

Boy, was I surprised when Lorelai stood up first, though, clinking her spoon against her glass to get everyone's attention. I couldn't count the number of pairs of eyes that swiveled in her direction, but there were _a lot_—Lorelai and Luke, Jess, Nora, Sookie, Jackson and family, Lane and family, my grandparents were even there. Miss Patty, Babette and Maury, Kirk. Michel. Just—everyone. I was pretty sure my mother would have invited the whole town if they'd all have fit in the dining room at the Dragonfly.

"Hi everyone," Lorelai began as a hush settled over the table. "I want to thank you all for being here tonight for Thanksgiving. I've had Thanksgiving with some of you for I don't know how many years in a row, now. And for some others, this is the first Thanksgiving I've spent with you, hopefully the first of many." She gave Jess a pointed look, but he was busy wiping food off of Emerson's cheek. Nora smiled. "I just wanted to pause the feasting for a moment here, because Luke and I have an announcement." She glanced down at Luke, who reluctantly stood up next to her. "When Luke and I got married, it was a really small ordeal, just he and I and Rory and April at City Hall in Hartford, because let's face it, we couldn't trust any of _you_ to marry us." Laughs all around. "I was pregnant with Emerson at the time, miraculously, of course, but it kinda threw a fork in our wedding plans, so that's what we did. So. That being said. Now that Em is a little older and we've got a natural babysitter in the family—" another pointed look at Jess; this one he returned with a rueful smile, "we have decided to get married again. With the full ceremony and everything."

The table erupted with cheers. Emily and Sookie, in particular, looked especially thrilled, although I bet they had very different plans in mind for this wedding. I felt my fingers tighten around my glass and shared a look with James before joining in the festivities, clinking my glass with everyone else's as they toasted to the Stars Hollow power couple. Of course I was happy for Luke and Lorelai, but it rendered mine and James' news moot for awhile.

As the table settled down slightly, James surprised me by speaking up. "Actually, Rory and I have some news, too," he began. I turned to him, shocked, and laid a hand on his arm as the table shushed once again. But he continued. "We are also getting married—for real, this time," he announced after a brief moment of suspense. Before the table could explode once more, he said, "On August first of next year!"

Lorelai shrieked and jumped up from her seat to give me a hug as the rest of the table burst into activity once more. Over my mother's shoulder I caught sight of Jess. His arm was suspended in mid-air, hand clutching Emerson's plastic spoon halfway to the child's mouth. His face had fallen and he was giving me this _look—_his Jess look, his disappointed-in-me look. The look I hadn't seen since we stood outside the bar in New Haven while Logan prattled on inside. The look that turned my life around.

As I pulled away from Lorelai and went to hug everyone else, something clenched in my gut, and I wondered fleetingly if that look was going to do the very same thing again.

* * *

><p>I found him outside, smoking, the embers at the end of his cigarette glowing in the dark. I figured I was the only one who had the nerve to seek him out; surely even Nora knew better than to bother him when he got in this mood. As he flicked the ashes over the back porch railing, I came to stand beside him, glass of wine in hand. He had pushed his floppy bangs out of his face and it stood up in a curly mess on top of his head, and there was a pencil behind his ear. "Hey," I said quietly.<p>

He took a long drag of his cigarette and snuffed it on the railing, tossing the butt into Luke's garden. He turned to go back into the house, but I called out, "I didn't know he was going to announce it. I thought after my mom's announcement we would wait."

"Clearly he doesn't mind sharing the spotlight," he muttered, half turning his body towards me. I could tell he really didn't want to have this conversation right now. His eyes were darting every which way as he swallowed the last of his beer.

I folded my arms across my midriff. "Well, I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked innocently, cocking an eyebrow.

I shrugged. "For that. The announcement, the scene, whatever."

"You think I care about that?"

"Jess."

He scoffed. "Get over yourself, Rory."

I pursed my lips, taking a sip of wine. I leaned back on the railing and crossed my ankles. "Don't be mean. I just want to make sure we're okay."

He chucked the beer bottle against the baseboard of the house, making me jump. The glass shattered, leaving a gleaming pile of fractured green gleaming in the dull porch light. He fixed me with a piercing stare and looked like he was about to say something, but the door to the kitchen opened and Luke stuck his head out. "What the hell was that?" he bellowed. Seeing Jess, and then seeing the pile of glass, he groaned. "Aw, jeez. Really, Jess?"

"I'm leaving," he snapped, heading for the door. He stopped before going in and turned to me. "Congratulations, by the way," he said darkly. "I'm sure you'll be _very_ happy." Then he was gone.

* * *

><p>"I miss you," I pouted into the phone as I entered the elevator. Pushing the button to the seventh floor, I juggled my coffee cup and carry-away doughnut bag with my cell phone. "I just want that stinking show to end so you can get your butt to the city."<p>

James chuckled lightly on the other end of the line. "I know, sweetheart," he said. I could hear drilling in the background. "It won't be long, though. Couple more weeks. I can't wait to christen our new place," he added in a lower voice. I could hear his sly grin.

"Looking forward to it." I giggled in spite of myself, taking a sip of coffee as the elevator bell dinged. "Just got to work. Gotta go."

"No," he groaned. "Stay."

"Can't," I said apologetically. "Sorry, babe. I'll talk to you later tonight, yeah?"

"Love you."

I hung up as I swung into my office—_my office_—at the _New York Times_. I'd been living in the city for three months now; Christmas had come and gone, and though I missed James like crazy, I couldn't complain about _finally_ being in New York and at my dream job, no less. As an added bonus, I had managed to avoid you-know-who the entire time I'd been living there, steering clear of Brooklyn and bypassing the neighbourhood that the Café Livre was in. Not that I had too much spare time for any bumping-into to occur; at night I was all over Broadway reviewing everything and anything, and by day I was researching new plays, playwrights, talent and directors, learning everything I can about real-deal theatre. And of course, I loved every minute.

James had been surprisingly understanding when I told him I'd accepted the job in New York. I'd expected him to be upset that I hadn't spoken to him about it first, but we had been planning to move to the city this year anyway, and he realized it was an opportunity I just couldn't pass up. Of course, we'd always thought we would be married when we moved, but in the end it didn't make too much of a difference. Soon we would be, and sooner than that the show he was working on at the Shubert in New Haven would close and he would be driving down to move into our new place in Manhattan.

As I took off my coat and scarf and settled into my office chair, I glanced appreciatively out the window at the snow-capped city. I had smelled snow a couple nights ago and now the concrete jungle was glowing with a thin layer of white all around. Valentine' Day was fast approaching, and from way up here I could see couples strolling along the sidewalks, oblivious to the rest of the world as they remained engrossed in each-other.

"Ah, Gilmore, there you are," Tucker said as he stuck his head into my office. Most people went by their first names here, but Tucker used my last name as a form of endearment more than anything else. "Just checking in on the status of the review for the _Anything Goes _revival?"

"Right here," I said with a smile, holding up a manila envelope I had just produced from my briefcase. "I'll drop it by Cheryl in a bit."

"You're lovely!" he called as he strolled off down the hall. A moment later he was back; Tucker was nothing if not scatter-brained. "Oh! Almost forgot. Remember that company that published that play you reviewed a few months ago?"

My heart sank a little. "Oh, yeah?"

"Well, they got in touch with me. The same author of the play is staging a reading of his new play there over the weekend, they wanted to know if someone here could check it out. And since Annie is on her honeymoon, I was hoping you could...?" He raised his eyebrows, allowing me to finish the sentence for him.

I sighed. "Uh, Tucker, I don't know...this weekend is..."

"Please, Gilmore, for me? No, seriously, for me, because otherwise I'd have to do it, and I have _La Cage _this weekend and all the parties and I'm going to be _so hungover_—pleeeeaaase?"

"Are you asking as my friend or as my boss?"

"Both! You're lovely!" he said again, taking off.

Drumming my nails against my desk, I seethed for a few moments before digging my cell phone out of my pocket and dialing before I could stop myself.

He picked up on the third ring. "Yeah, what?"

"You think this is funny, don't you?" I demanded.

There was a long pause. "Rory?"

"What were you thinking, asking the _Times _to review your playwright's reading?" I carried on, my voice rising. "You _knew_ they would send me. Is this a sick joke of yours or something?"

His voice gained some strength as he collected his thoughts. "What are you talking about?"

"The play reading! At Truncheon! You asked the _New York _fucking _Times _to review it so they'd send me. Am I wrong?"

He sighed, and when he spoke his voice strangely had no fight in it. "I didn't even think about it, Ror. I'm serious. I'm sorry—things around here have been—" He sighed again. "Look, I'm sorry, alright? Just don't worry about it if you don't want to come."

I was taken aback by how quickly he backed down. He sounded tired. No, he sounded downright _exhausted_. I had never heard Jess sound so—_meek_. I bit my lip, unable to help my basic instincts. "Jess, is everything alright?"

Another sigh. "No. It's not."

I paused, unsure how to continue. "Do you want to talk about it?"

I heard a muffled shout in the background, and Jess yelled, "Yeah, one sec!" away from the receiver. When he came back on, his voice had dropped an octave. "Listen, Rory, I gotta go. Forget about the review, okay?" _Click_.

Frowning, I tucked my phone back into my bag and flipped open my personal planner. My weekend was relatively free, besides meeting my friend Lucy for coffee on Saturday afternoon. I grabbed a pen and wrote _Truncheon: Play reading _down, permanently marking it into my schedule.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

Letting the last few stragglers out of the Café for the night, I gratefully locked the door behind them and shut all the blinds. I paused for a moment to take a deep breath, savouring the feeling of this wretched day being over. Then again, so few days lately _weren't_ wretched that it really shouldn't make a difference anymore. But it did.

"Fuuuck this day," Isabel crowed as she noisily took the till out of the register to count. "I thought those assholes would never leave."

I turned away from the door, pulling the elastic out of my hair and letting it fall to my shoulders. I hadn't had it cut since August and it now hung in loose curls down past my neck. I usually kept it up in a tiny bun—and yes, I realized I was a goddamn hipster with a man-bun, but I couldn't be bothered to get it cut, and it in combination with my untrimmed beard made me look like a completely different person, for which I was grateful. I didn't want to look like my old self—I didn't want to _be_ my old self. I just wanted to—forget everything.

Isabel gave me a sympathetic look as I joined her behind the counter. I reached to take the till from her but she swatted me away. "Go home. I got this. You've been here since six this morning. It is now," she checked her watch, "officially tomorrow. Get out of here."

I rubbed a hand over my face, scratching at my bearded jaw. "I gotta do the cash, Izzy."

"I was taught how, I'm a big girl," she insisted, bumping me away with her hip. "Go on, get. I'll see you at home."

I wanted to protest further, but I really didn't have the energy. Thanking her, I grabbed my coat and left out the back door. As I exited the alley and hailed a cab, I checked my phone. No messages, no missed calls. Not that I'd expected any. But still, my heart sank whenever I saw my blank homepage screen. The snow swirled around my ankles as I ducked into a taxi.

_I've got to figure out who I am. I know that sounds cheesy and cliché, but it's something I have to do for myself. You understand that, right?_

Of course I understood. I just didn't realize it would hurt so goddamn much.

I dug Isabel's spare key out of my pocket as I arrived at her door, shoving it open with my shoulder. The jam tended to get stuck now that the door had become warped with time. Justin had his lips wrapped around his bong when I stepped inside, tossing my keys into the bowl by the door as I toed off my boots and shrugged out of my coat. As he exhaled a stream of putrid smoke, he nodded at me. "Long day?"

I didn't answer him and went straight for the bathroom, eager for a hot shower. I was thankful that Isabel and Justin had offered me their spare bedroom for the time being, but the place just constantly reeked of pot and they had their obnoxious friends over every weekend and stayed up until ungodly hours of the morning. That wasn't the problem, though—the problem was that I usually joined them, unable to resist giving in to substance to make myself numb. I'd smoked more pot in the past two months then I had in my whole life, and I swear I could almost feel my brain cells dying by the second.

_You can have the apartment. I just need some time to get my stuff out, and think, for awhile._

_How long is awhile?_

_It's just awhile, Jess._

As I emerged from my shower, raking a hand through my tangled damp hair, I flopped down on the couch next to Justin and accepted his offer to take a hit off his bong. I liked toking with Justin best—he never said anything, we just sat there in comfortable silence, the TV playing whatever pointless Netflix cartoon Justin had selected when he was sober, and thought our respective thoughts.

As I drifted off into high-land, I thought about Rory's phone call from today. I honestly had completely forgotten that she worked for the _Times _now. I hadn't exactly been in the best frame of mind these past couple of months to even really let myself think about Rory. Worrying about one person who had part of my heart was nearly too much to handle—I couldn't shatter myself by worrying about the rest of the equation.

_I'm not good for you, Jess. I'm holding you back. I know it, you know it. I'm...too young._

I once again found myself lying sprawled face-up on my bed, the ceiling whirling above me as silent tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. My fingers clutched at the sheets as I stifled sob after sob, determined not to let Isabel hear me crying. She was pitying me enough as it was; I didn't need her to hear me when the night terrors got a hold of me.

_But I love you._

_No, you don't._

_Nora—_

_You don't love me, Jess. We both know who your heart really belongs to._

_That's a lie. That's bullshit and you know it. _

_Jess._

_Don't do this, Nora. Please._

_Jess... Stop lying to yourself._

Thoughts of Isabel vanished as I folded in on myself, breaking once again as the night closed in around me.

* * *

><p>AN: Review please?


	16. The Loneliness & The Split

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Sixteen – The Loneliness & The Split_

**Jess**

_2 Months Ago_

"_Last Christmas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away,_" Nora screeched out at the top of her lungs, using her hairbrush as a microphone. I just laughed at her from my spot leaning in the doorway to the bathroom. The sink was laden with make-up products of all sorts and Nora plucked from the collection as she got ready for tonight, occasionally taking a break to belt out bits of whatever god-awful Christmas song came over the radio. "_THIS YEAR, to SAVE ME FROM TEARS, I'll give to someone SPECIAL!_" The last word dissolved into giggles as I chucked a make-up sponge at her.

"We're going to get a noise complaint," I warned, though my lips bore my signature smirk.

She stuck her tongue out at me in the mirror. "It's Christmas," she said. "I'll sing whatever damn Christmas song I want!"

I cradled my wine glass in my palm as she continued to apply her make-up. "It's Christmas in a week from now," I reminded her amusedly.

"So? _All_ of December is Christmas time."

I chuckled, rolling my eyes playfully. As I took a sip of my wine, I caught her watching me briefly before returning to her task. Gazing down into the pale, clear liquid in my glass, I raised my eyes to meet hers in the mirror. "I kinda feel like a jerk drinking this in front of you," I admitted quietly.

She paused for a moment, then shrugged. "Not a big deal. Just because I'm not drinking doesn't mean you can't. Plus—" she gestured to the car keys on my belt loop—"you get a built-in designated driver!"

"I know," I conceded, shifting my weight and shoving my free hand into my pocket. "I just kind of feel like we should be doing this together."

"You? Sober? Please," she scoffed. Her smile reflected mine the mirror. "When pigs fly."

"Hmm, better watch out for flying bacon," I said, coming up behind her to kiss her exposed neck. She shuddered beneath my touch and I grinned wickedly, nipping gently at the sensitive skin there. She purred in response, and I moved my lips up to the hollow behind her ear, pressing long, slow kisses there.

As her knees began to weaken, she pulled away, giggling, and swatted at me. "Stop distracting me," she scolded, taking a step away. My hands held her firmly in place. "You always complain that we're late because I take too long getting ready, but it's because you always _distract_ me."

I nodded, smiling slyly. "Uh-huh, so it's _my_ fault."

"Damn right it is!"

A half hour later, she was finally ready to go. It was well worth the wait, too—she looked amazing in her tight-fitting little black dress, and the heels she wore with it made even her little legs look a mile long. I planted a deep kiss on her lips before opening the front door for her; she threw a tie at me before smiling and walking out into the hallway. Grimacing, I locked the door behind us and reluctantly secured the tie around my neck.

Isabel rushed up to us as soon as we arrived at Truncheon. She was wearing an emerald green pantsuit and her platinum curls were piled on top of her head, secured with a glittering red ribbon. Justin was on her arm, looking bored and high as usual. "Where have you _been_?" she demanded, taking my arm and steering me, Nora in tow, into the throng of people already gathered in the bar area. "You're a half hour late to your own party!"

"Don't look at me," I said, raising my arms in innocence. "'S not my fault this one takes forever to get ready."

Nora's mouth fell open in protest. "Jess! Don't _tell_ other people that!"

But I had spotted a couple of familiar faces in the crowd. Brushing Isabel aside, I made my way through the bodies until I reached my destination, holding my hand up and out and ready to clasp Chris' and Matt's hands respectively in greeting. "Well, look who it is," I said, grinning at the two of them after we'd exchanged our initial hellos. "So glad you guys made it."

"We almost didn't," Matt said, rocking back on his heels and shoving his hands in his pockets. "The highway was a disaster. Cars just fishtailing everywhere. Who knew a little snow would send the entire East Coast into World War Z?"

"But we're here now," Chris construed, rolling his eyes at his friend's hyperbole. "Where's the lady of the hour?"

I smiled, knowing full well about the crush Chris had had on Nora since we had all lived in Philly together. I turned back towards the crowd, catching sight of the lovely lady in question still chatting animatedly with Isabel and Justin. I stuck my fingers in my mouth and whistled, signaling for her and the others to come over. "Matt! Chris! You made it!" Nora exclaimed excitedly, hugging them both when she got close enough.

As the three of them fell into easy conversation, I put my hands in my pockets, my fingers closing around the thing in my pocket which was causing my gut to seize with nerves every few seconds. My mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once; it was an odd sensation, though not entirely unpleasant. Since returning to New York from spending Thanksgiving in Stars Hollow, my feelings towards Nora had shifted. Of course I still loved her, that hadn't changed, but everything felt a little more solid, grounded. Especially after my conversation with Rory outside on her back porch after she and James and Lorelai and Luke had announced their respective re-engagements. I realized it wasn't fair to hold back from Nora because of a girl who was ancient history to me. Rory was moving on, and now it was my turn to do the same; for real, this time.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please?" Isabel called out at the mic set up on our tiny stage meant for poetry readings. A hush settled over the room as everyone turned to look at her. "Thank you for attending the fourth annual Christmas party thrown by Café Livre and Truncheon Books!" A smattering of applause rang out through the room. I pulled Nora into my side, my hand on her hip. She smiled up at me radiantly. "I would like to call up the two people who made this fantastic event happen; they just happen to also be the two people who make this entire place happen, really, so give them a nice big round of applause for Jess Mariano and Nora Rose!"

I sighed, grinning down at Nora. Isabel did this _every year_. It really wasn't a big deal—we didn't do anything fancy except order a bit more booze than usual and invite all our friends and clients to the Café for an evening of schmoozing and cocktails. Still, we complied; we were representing the business after all. Taking my hand, Nora led me onstage, her giggle ringing through the room as she approached the microphone.

"Hi everyone," she said, her voice amplified. "Like Isabel said, thank you so much for coming. We love having you all here every year at this time, and it's especially cool to see the crowd growing every year as our circle widens. We, uh, didn't really plan a speech, so I guess that's it for now...help yourself to food and drink and try and get to know people!" She laughed and the audience laughed along with her. That was the thing about Nora; she was charming and likeable to anyone, no matter the circumstance. Never awkward, never dull. Always excited and exciting. Always friendly, always all ears.

My heart clenched as I tightened my grip on Nora's hand, holding her in place before she could leave the stage. I leaned in towards the microphone. "Actually, I have something to add," I said. The words were just tumbling from me without any sort of control. Nora looked back at me, confused. The room shushed once again; all eyes were on me. I swallowed. "Uh, I just wanted to especially acknowledge the beautiful creature standing next to me." The room howled and Nora looked down sheepishly. "She is truly my rock and without her I—and this place, really—would cease to exist. I'm very lucky to have her. We all are. And, uh...I just wanted to..."

Nora's eyes widened to the size of plates as I dropped my weight, bending on one knee before her. I heard Isabel's squeal of delight from somewhere in the sidelines, but nothing existed in the world besides me and Nora. I took her hand in mine and looked up into her eyes, one of the stage lights behind her causing a halo effect around her flame-red hair. "Nora Rose, uh..." I reached into my pocket and held it out to her. "Will you...marry me?"

The audience erupted into wolf-whistles and hollering, some chanting for Nora to say yes, others just yelling their encouragement at me. Nora, however, was frozen, staring down at me, her mouth slightly open, her eyes filling quickly with tears. She stammered a few times, her eyes darting from me to the ring to the crowd.

Finally, her gaze settled on me, and a strangled gasp escaped her lips as the first tear fell, landing on my hand. I felt my jaw go slack as she abruptly turned and fled, the crowd growing silent and parting for her as she tore through it. The bell signaled her departure as she left the Café, and then all eyes were on me.

* * *

><p>Isabel wordlessly handed me a cigarette when she joined me outside some time later, lighting it for me for good measure. I was sitting on the curb, my knees hunched up to my chest. As I let the first puff stream from my lips, I felt her eyes on me, but I couldn't bring myself to maintain eye contact with anyone. When she spoke, her voice was more gently than I'd ever heard it. "That was brutal. I'm so sorry, Jess."<p>

I just nodded, sniffing, wiping at my runny nose with the back of my hand. My vision kept blurring. It was getting annoying.

Isabel put an arm around my shoulders, giving me a few squeezes before resting her head on my shoulder. I leaned my head on hers, huffing out a sigh in hopes it would mask the sob the followed. She just tightened her grip on me and didn't let go until I temporarily stopped leaking, my face sticky and my breath rattling as I finished off the cigarette, tossing it into the gutter. "Fuck," I said.

"Yeah," she breathed. "Fuck, indeed."

"I thought she wanted that."

Isabel nodded on my shoulder. "Me too. I feel like an asshole."

I looked down at her, eyebrow raised. "Why?"

"I encouraged you to propose," she replied quietly. "Not that I'm saying I'm the only reason you did, but...again, I thought it was what she wanted. She _told_ me it was." She sat up straight, looking sidelong at me and propping her elbow on her bent knee. "Did something happen between you two?"

I shrugged. "Not that I know of. I thought we were great. She seemed happy, in control. She met my family, finally, and that went surprisingly well. I don't know what I did..."

Isabel rubbed my back gently. "Hey, don't beat yourself up. Odds are it's got less to do with you and more to do with her. You know how insecure she can be. Maybe she wasn't expecting it."

"She never expected much of me," I bit out with a humourless laugh.

Isabel just looked sad. I had a feeling people would be looking at me like that for a very long time.

* * *

><p>I could think of a couple of people who would be ecstatic about the snow blanketing the state of Connecticut, but I personally was cursing it at the moment. Every couple hundred feet by back tires would slide out, causing me to zigzag all over the road. It was getting irritating, and dangerous—not only was I driving on less than four hours' sleep, but the conditions were some of the worse I'd seen in this state. Luckily, living in New York I was used to such foul weather, but that didn't make it any less shitty at this point.<p>

It was getting dark by the time I passed the sign announcing my arrival in Stars Hollow. It was about four o'clock on Christmas Eve. And what was I going to do? Just drop in on Luke, who was inevitably preparing a fancy dinner for himself, Lorelai and Emerson, and, undoubtedly, Rory and James? Was I going to be that guy who just showed up unannounced and brokenhearted on a holiday to a room full of people who probably hadn't spared him a thought since the last holiday? What the hell was I even doing in Stars Hollow?

Stupid question. I knew what I was doing here. I was trying to escape the loneliness that was threatening to suffocate me back in New York. Isabel and Justin had gone to visit her parents in Syracuse for the holidays, and though she had kindly invited me along, I had politely told her there was no fucking way I was crashing a random family's Christmas because I was too fucking miserable to get my ass off her couch. No one deserved that, and at the time I had been perfectly under the impression that I didn't deserve company this holiday season, either.

I wondered what Nora was doing for the holidays. She didn't have a family to spend it with, and she was all alone in our apartment. I figured she was probably spending it with Dan and Natalie, who never went anywhere. I hadn't spoken to her in a week, so I really had no idea. I hadn't bothered trying to go home, knowing she needed her space, and I was too humiliated to face her yet, anyway. I was comfortable just wasting away on Isabel's couch, smoking pot with Justin, and trying to erase every trace of the happiness I felt I had only just begun to feel.

The biggest problem was work. I had been sneaking in super early and spending all day every day in the upstairs office, never once coming down for anything, knowing she was probably below me running the Café as if nothing was wrong. Isabel never said anything and I never asked, so I really wasn't sure if Nora was even coming to work anymore, but I was paying it safe anyway. It felt stupid and childish—I was almost thirty, for god's sake—but I knew that as soon as I saw her, I would break. And I just couldn't handle that yet.

I parked my car near Town Square and just sat there for a minute, wondering what the hell I should do. The diner was dark, and so was the apartment above it. I could just go in there and spend the holiday miserable in my previous prison. I knew Luke's would be closed tomorrow for Christmas. I could be out of there before he showed up in the morning on Boxing Day. Or, I could crash the Gilmore-Danes Christmas party. _Or—_I could visit my mom and TJ. The latter idea, though the least appealing, seemed to be the most practical. I couldn't be alone, and I couldn't be with Rory and family, so I put my car in drive and headed back out onto the treacherous roads, aiming for Woodbury.

Liz pretty much had a conniption when she saw me standing on her doorstep. She flew at me, enveloping me in a bear hug that smelled of craft glue and synthetic cinnamon. "Oh my god, I can't believe you're actually here!" she cried, pulling back to trap my face between her hands. She pressed her forehead to mine, standing on her toes to do so. "Handsome. I get to spend Christmas with my boy! It's been years since we've spent Christmas together."

_Exactly fifteen years_, I thought, but didn't dare speak it aloud. It would be sure to kill the smile on her face, and though I wasn't completely elated to see her, I wasn't about to ruin anybody's Christmas spirit. Or whatever.

"Hey, there he is!" TJ bellowed as Liz led me into the kitchen of their cute little heritage home. It was all thick wooden slabs and pastel paint with homey furnishings. TJ shook my hand and pulled me in for a hug, clapping me hard on the back. "Didn't expect you this year, kid."

"Jess!" I turned and accepted Doula into my arms, swinging her around in a circle as she squealed with delight. As I set her down, she brushed her curly dark hair out of her large eyes, which looked eerily like mine. "Where have you been?" she demanded, crossing her little arms.

I rumpled her hair affectionately. "Sorry, kid," I said. "You big bro's been busy." The alliteration.

"Want anything to drink, Jess?" Liz asked, automatically going to the fridge to retrieve a beer. I accepted it, toasting with TJ before taking a long swig. Liz leaned again the counter, watching me earnestly. "So what brings you here, Jess? I gotta say, I'm surprised that you showed up."

"Sorry for not calling," I said, setting my bottle down gingerly. "Just thought I'd spend the holidays here for once. New York was getting...cold."

"I guess you didn't bring your girlfriend, huh?" Liz asked. "I'm sorry we missed her at Thanksgiving. Doula had that awful fever that was going around. Didn't want to get anybody sick."

"It's okay," I said, smiling down at my half sister. "She's not my girlfriend anymore, anyway."

"What?" Liz seemed genuinely shocked. "Weren't you together for—"

"Five years," I said wincing. "I don't really want to talk about it."

She nodded, surprisingly understanding. "Well, we were just going to have some eggnog and watch _The Grinch_. Come on into the den."

As TJ set up the movie on Netflix, I put my arm around Doula, who had promptly sat on the couch next to me and curled into my side, her little legs tangling on my lap. Liz smiled at the two of us, her eyes filled with love as her two children cuddled in front of the TV. I felt strangely comfortable in my estranged family's home. It was nice to know we had repaired our relationship to the point where I could show up out of the blue at a random time after months of no communication, and still feel strangely at home.

* * *

><p>"Hi."<p>

"Hey."

"I'm not quite done packing." She had dyed her hair black again. It made her seem entirely darker.

I blinked, trying not to show my surprise. "Okay."

"I need a bit more time."

"That's fine."

"Are you going to come in?"

"It's my house."

"...Right."

I stepped past Nora and into what I had previously thought of as our apartment. A week after Christmas I had finally got the nerve to text her, asking when I could come home to grab more clothes and stuff to take to Isabel's. Now, though, I was surprised to find the apartment half packed already, but it was all Nora's stuff that was boxed, not mine. She stood behind me awkwardly as I took it all in, turning in a full circle before facing her again. "Huh."

"I figured you would want the place."

"You know me so well," I said dryly.

She swallowed, looking at the floor. "Jess..."

"I'm gonna get my stuff now." I headed upstairs to the loft, where I found my suitcase and began throwing random articles of my own clothing into it. She followed me up, watching silently as I packed completely random shit. I was too focused on not letting the burning sensation in my eyes come to fruition to really care about what I was grabbing.

She was playing with her nails. "I was hoping we could talk."

"What about?" I asked casually, pulling open drawers.

"Jess. Don't be like that."

"You don't get to tell me how to be," I snapped. "I did what _you wanted_. And you ripped me apart."

She bit her lip, lowering her gaze once more. "I thought it _was_ what I wanted. But then when you asked..." She trailed off, gesturing helplessly. "I got scared."

"You don't think I was scared?" I demanded. "I was fucking _terrified_. You know that's not me, but I did it for_ you_. You _humiliated_ me. You—you broke my _heart_."

Tears bubbled over her eyelids and her lips parted with a whimper. "Jess...I'm so sorry," she gasped, her voice breaking over my name. "I didn't want it to be this way."

"Well, it is." I zipped up my suitcase forcefully and took a look around, hoping I hadn't forgotten anything important. "How much longer do you need? I'd like to be able to live in my own home at some point."

"I don't know." She was still crying. "You can have the apartment. I just need some time to get by stuff out, and think, for a while."

"How long is a while?"

She lowered her arms, looking tired. "It's just a while, Jess."

I narrowed my eyes. "How _long_, Nora?"

"A month, maybe?"

"A_ month_?" I gaped, incredulous. "That's a long time, Nora. I can't put Isabel and Justin out for that long. I'll end up sleeping at work."

She shrugged, helpless once more. "I need to get my stuff out. I need to find another place to live. If you want, we could alternate...every few days or something..."

"Not worth the hassle," I snapped, moving past her with my suitcase. "Just don't take too goddamn long. I have a life to live."

She followed me back downstairs. I went to the kitchen to get my protein powder and some veggies. Isabel only stocked crap at her place. "Jess, please, I want to explain." She took a deep breath. When I didn't answer, she carried on. "I've got to figure out who I am. I know that sounds cheesy and cliché, but it's something I have to do for myself. You understand that, right?"

I didn't answer.

"When you got down on one knee, I just...I realized that, all of a sudden. I mean, I'm young. Not that you're not, but...I'm inexperienced and unsure and I'm _suffering_ from wanderlust. You've...already done all the things I want to do, pretty much. We would just end up resenting each-other." She paused, crying once again. "You want to settle, but I'm not ready for that yet. I'm not good for you, Jess. I'm holding you back. I know it, you know it. I'm...too young." She blotted her eyes with a tissue. "And I know I'm a shit because I definitely wouldn't be where I am without you. You saved my life. I was in a shitty place when I met you and somehow you fixed me. Well, as much as I can be fixed, anyway. And here I am, leaving you...god, I suck."

I drummed my fingers on the counter, looking anywhere but at her. "So that's it?" I asked, my voice irritatingly weak. "We're not going to work this out? You're just done?"

"This was always going to be our undoing, Jess." She took a deep breath. "It's for the best. Especially after what I saw at Thanksgiving...I know it is."

"What the fuck does Thanksgiving have to do with this?" I roared, anger flaring up in me so fast it made my head spin.

She shrank away from my outburst, fiddling with her fingers again. "I saw the way you looked at her," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

There it was again. The _look_. Lorelai's words suddenly echoed in my head. _You had better be careful the way you look at my daughter. One of these days the wrong person is going to notice. _I felt dizzy. I felt sick. There was no fucking way Rory was going to fuck things up for me again. No _fucking way_. The world could not be so unforgiving, so goddamn cruel.

Clenching my fist, I let the full weight of my glare land on Nora. "This is not. About. Her." Each word cracked out like a whip.

"Yes it is, Jess."

"I fucking asked you to _marry_ me. What more do you _want_ from me?" I cried, not caring if the neighbours heard my voice as it raised well beyond acceptable quiet time volumes.

Her lower lip trembling as still more tears escaped her big green eyes, she shook her head. "We just can't be together, Jess."

"But..." Just like that, the anger was gone, replaced by distress and fear, sadness and despair. My fist relaxed on the counter, my sweaty palm leaving a steamed up mark on the granite. "But I love you."

"No, you don't." It was a full reversal. Now her voice was firm, her body language closed off.

I felt my whole body going limp, knowing I was going to lose this battle. "Nora—"

"You don't love me, Jess. We both know who your heart really belongs to."

"That's a lie," I choked out, looking at the ceiling to prevent tears from falling. "That's bullshit and you know it."

"Jess." She looked so tired.

"Don't do this, Nora," I whispered, looking over at her pleadingly. Her face swam before my eyes as I finally gave in, letting the first few tears roll down my cheeks. "Please."

Her face contorted in pain and then she, too, was crying again. We just stood there opposite each-other, looking into each-other's eyes as we cried. "Jess..." she began, my name coming out as a sob. "Stop lying to yourself."

I felt my denial dissolve as Rory's face flashed in my subconscious, and a strange numbness began to spread in my extremities, quickly freezing my blood and seizing my heart. Grabbing my suitcase and plastic bag full of food, I brushed past Nora and out of the apartment, not looking back as I heard the lock slide home behind me.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry for the delay in updating. Life happens. If I get some good reviews for this chapter, maybe the wait for the next won't be as long...?


	17. Strange Moods & Middlesex

A/N: Random thought: I feel kinda bad for Jared Padalecki (Dean). It was kind of obvious that once Jess came around (I read somewhere that the producers LOVED him), they started writing Dean into the awful, angry fool he became by the end of his character in order to make Jess seem more likeable (not that Jess could have NOT been likeable, but you know what I mean). I'm sure no actor appreciates having the writers make their character go from loveable to basically booed off the show in favour of making another actor shine. All that being said, I'm not really complaining, because, well...we got Jess.

Also, I started a new Literati fic called Angelheaded Hipsters, but I have no idea if it's something that will survive in this storyverse. It's a gender-bender. So...Rory is a dude, and Jess is a girl. Check it out, let me know what you think...then if you want me to continue it I will somehow juggle it with this one!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Seventeen - Strange Moods & Middlesex_

**Rory**

It took me forever to get ready, mostly because I kept zoning out or debating whether or not this was a good idea at all. Not to mention the playlist I had loaded on Spotify kept bringing me back to a time over a decade ago; the sound of The Clash playing out of my tiny portable speaker might as well have been blasting from Luke's crappy boombox in the apartment above the diner while teenaged Jess and I made out on the couch. I didn't know why I had sought out this particular band as my pump-up music while I got ready for the play reading tonight, but I had seemingly done it on autopilot.

I had showered and shaved my legs, and blow-dried and curled my long hair. I was just putting the finishing touches on my make-up before it would be time for the hard part: deciding what to wear. What does one wear when one is engaged and attending play reading at an indie bookstore slash bar owned by one's sexier-with-age ex-boyfriend with whom one hasn't spoken for nearly two months, save for a brief conversation on the phone which revealed the ex-boyfriend in question may be in kind of a bad place?

Deciding to lean more on the business casual side, I pulled on a pair of dark-washed straight-leg jeans, a light white sweater, and my black suit-jacket style blazer. I pulled on my classic red Docs and put a long, thin gold chain around my neck to complete the look, and after surveying my appearance in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bathroom door, decided it was going to have to do.

Calling the apartment which would soon be mine and James' a shoebox would be an overstatement. Finding an affordable one-bedroom flat in Manhattan was damn near impossible. We had settled on a studio instead; I was still getting used to the open concept. The only "room" was the bathroom, which was really just a separate space hidden by a sliding panneled door. The bed also served as a couch to watch TV from, and the galley kitchen was barely big enough for two people to stand in shoulder-to-shoulder. But it was in New York. And it was ours.

(_I need to know / Should I stay or should I go?_)

_Go_. Time to go.

I bent to turn off the lamp on my nightstand and reached for my keys, but as I turned towards the front door I heard a key struggling in the lock, the knob turning frantically. I let out a short shriek and looked around wildly for something to ward off the impending intruder, but my panic was deemed unnecessary when the door finally swung open. There stood James, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, looking out of breath and a little exasperated. But his face lit up when he saw me standing there, slackjawed.

"Hey, lamb," he said, stepping inside and dropping his bag. He held his arms out and looked at me pointedly. "Well, don't I get a hug?"

(_ROCK the Casbah, ROCK the Casbah_)

I slowly stepped forward into his arms, hooking my arms around his and squeezing him tightly. My brain was rushing to process the fact that he was _here. _He was here, and I was on my way out to see Jess. Well, not to _see _Jess, but I was _going _to see him. "What are you doing here?" I asked, pulling away and furrowing my brow at him.

His smile faded. "Jeez, Ror, if I didn't know any better I'd say you weren't happy to see me."

"Sorry," I said quickly, shaking my head and smiling at him. "It's just that I was just about to head out the door. Actually, I'm late," I added, checking my watch.

"Late for what?" he asked, linking his fingers with mine.

"Oh, just a thing for work."

He grimaced. "That's what I get for surprising you. I should have known you'd be busy."

I rubbed his upper arm. "Hey, for what it's worth, I _really_ appreciate the surprise," I said, leaning in to kiss him gently. He responded immediately, pulling me into him ino order to deepen the kiss.

When he pulled away, we were both breathless. "Do you have to go?" he asked, his voice husky.

I smiled sadly, not even thinking about it even though Jess' words were echoing in my head. _Forget about the review, okay? _"Yeah. I have to go." I kissed his nose and stepped away, grabbing my messenger bag from its spot by the door. "I won't be too long. Wait for me?"

"I'm only here for tonight," James said, shrugging out of his coat. "I have to go back to work in the morning. I was hoping we could go out for some food, spend the night together..."

I paused, biting my lip. James had come all the way to New York just to spend a night with me. I hadn't seen him in weeks. And I was halfway out the door to attend a play reading that Jess had straight-up _told_ me not to attend. But I couldn't get his voice out of my head, how sad it sounded. Something had happened, I was sure of it. And right now, my need to make sure Jess was okay was winning over my want to spend the night with James. "I'm sorry," I said, holding my hands out helplessly.

"Well if it won't take long, I could come with you?" he asked pleadingly. "It's been weeks, Rory. I just want to spend time with you."

"You'll be bored out of your mind," I deadpanned, inching out of the door. "I'll be back soon. Three hours, tops. Order Chinese!" I called before shutting the door behind me just as I heard him call out that he loved me.

As I got into a cab, I mostly felt bad about the fact that I _didn't_ really feel bad about leaving James there. After all, he had just showed up out of the blue expecting I would be available and bored. I had a life, I had things to do. It dawned on me then that maybe I was enjoying my time alone in New York a little too much...

(_I fought the law and the—law won)_

My stomach quickly became a pile of knots as the cab pulled up in front of Café Livre. I paid the driver and got out, straightening myself out before striding to the door and pulling it open, taking one last deep breath before I went past the point of no return.

The place looked the same as I remembered it. It was already pretty crowded—I'd arrived a bit later than I'd wanted to. I quickly scanned the room for Jess or Nora, but couldn't see them amongst all the people. An extravagantly dressed girl probably in her mid-twenties came rushing up to me. Her platinum blond hair was swept back in a perfect, sleek ponytail. "Hi there!" she said with a dazzling smile. "Can I see your ticket?"

"Oh," I stammered, thinking fast. "I'm the reporter from the _New York Times. _I didn't know I needed a ticket."

Her eyes widened slightly. "Well, I didn't know a reporter from the _Times _was coming tonight!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. She offered me her hand to shake. "I'm Isabel. I'm the manager."

I shook her hand, but I was frowning, confused. "Oh...I thought Nora was the manager?"

Isabel's smile remained intact, but the light went out in her eyes. "You know Nora?"

"She's a friend of a friend," I said vaguely.

"Oh. Well, she doesn't work here anymore," Isabel required, just as ambiguously. She glanced over her shoulder. "I'll see if I can get you a seat closer to the stage, uh...sorry, I didn't get your name?"

I bit my lip, knowing there was a chance she would recognize me by name. I had no idea how much of Jess' history she might know. Now that she had asked, though, there was really no choice. "Oh, uh, I'm Rory Gilmore." If she recognized the name, she didn't show it. I pressed on quickly. "And I don't need a closer seat. I can just sit...wherever."

"She only seats we have left are behind the bar with me and the owner," she explained, waving her manicured hand in that direction.

I swallowed. "That's fine."

"Great." She turned on her platform heel and lead me to the bar, where a bearded bartender was just finishing serving a rather exquisite looking martini. As I got closer, the guy looked more and more familiar, but it wasn't until Isabel and I were back there with him and he turned to look at us that I finally recognized who it was.

His eyes closed briefly after seeing me. When they opened, they were hard as stone. "I told you not to bother coming," he said, his voice gruff as if he hadn't spoken in a long while. Isabel drew a sharp intake of breath and promptly excused herself. I guess she had recognized me, after all.

I couldn't believe how different he looked. His dark hair was so long he had it pulled back into a bun at the back of his head. A thick beard coated his jaw and upper lip, and there were bruise-like shadows under his eyes, which were more dull than I had ever seen them, not to mention bloodshot. He looked like he had lost weight, too—his black dress shirt hung off of him in a way which was not flattering, which was surprising because he usually looked striking in black.

"Jess," I breathed, taking this all in with wide eyes, "what happened?" I remembered Isabel telling me that Nora no longer worked here, and suddenly it all fell into place with a click in my brain. I sighed. "Did something happen with you and Nora?"

His eyes darted around the room and he was absently scrubbing his hand with a bar towel. "Yeah. We're not...that's over."

"I'm sorry," I said, and I was surprised at how much I meant it. I hated seeing Jess hurt, and it had been awhile since I'd seen this look on his face. It was the same one he had worn at the Truncheon in Philly eight and a half years ago, the same one I had put on his face at Yale when I'd screamed "No!" in his face after he'd asked me to run away with him.

He half shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. "It is what it is."

"I can leave," I offered, though I really didn't want to. I just wanted to get that look off his face. It hurt me to see him like this.

He contemplated it for a moment, then finally he looked me in the eye. "No. Stay."

Isabel came back with three stools for us to sit on as a handful of actors got up on the stage to start the reading. There was a smattering of applause. I was sat a bit in front of Jess, and I felt him lean forward to whisper in my ear. "Want a drink?"

"Anything but mojitos," I said, smiling at him over my shoulder. He attempted a smile and went to get me a drink. He handed me a mason jar full of a perfectly poured beer. I quietly thanked him as the reading began.

It was quickly made clear that this play wasn't as good as the playwright's previous one. I wasn't fully paying attention, though—Jess' presence behind me and the bold fact that he was single and miserable was all too distracting. I kept turning to look at him, but he would keep his eyes glued on the stage. He kept refilling his own drink, and would offer me a new one every time I finished my own. By the time act one ended, I had a nice little buzz going on. I knew I was in a dangerous situation—I was in a strange mood, tipsy, and near Jess. But I also knew I was in control and I wasn't an emotional wreck like I had been the last time I'd been alone with Jess.

At intermission I swiveled on my stool to face Jess. "Want some help on the bar?" I asked as he stood to start prepping for the onslaught of orders.

He raised an eyebrow at me. "Do you even know how to make any drinks?"

I rolled my eyes. "I spent every Friday night with Richard and Emily Gilmore for years. I can make a mean martini by now."

He smirked and tossed an apron at me. "Well, then. Get to work, Gilmore."

Even between Jess, Isabel and me, we were completely swamped for the entirety of the twenty minute intermission. We built up a flow, though, and handled it with ease. I'd take orders, Isabel would pour beer, and Jess made all the fancy drinks. By the time the second act started, we were all out of breath, and we took a shot of tequila together to celebrate.

As the play went on, Jess put his hand on my shoulder. I reached up to lock my fingers with his as he leaned forward. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered, his breath hot on my ear. I shivered, instantly reminded of that night eight and a half years ago...

When the play ended, I realized I hadn't written a single note for my article. But I didn't care. I was still holding Jess' hand. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

Eventually, he let go of my hand and stood to help Isabel clear out the rest of the bar. Some people lingered around for last call, including me. I went to sit on the other side of the bar, though, leaning on the counter towards Jess, who looked a little more lively than he had been when the night started. To anyone who didn't know him he might have just looked a bit tired. To someone like me, though, who knew him more intimately, I could tell he was still in his own private hell; he was just doing a better job of hiding it now.

I was staring at the hair that had escaped the bun and was now curling behind his ears, and the way his veins strained under the skin of his forearms, which were lighter than I had ever seen him. Usually his olive skin had a dark tinge to it, but he was now quite pale. I supposed when we had lived in Stars Hollow he had spent every moment he could outside in the sun, and he was the type to tan easily. Realizing my thoughts were going way off on a totally innappropriate tangent, I shook my head, blinking out of my daydreams.

One look at Jess' face told me I'd been caught. "My arm that interesting to you?" he asked, eyebrow cocked.

I felt warmth spread under my collar and laughed nervously. "Sorry. Zoned out for a bit."

"I'll say."

"I was just noticing how much you've changed. I'm sure this is the last thing you want to hear, but you really look terrible."

He grimaced. "Thanks."

I rushed to explain myself. "I mean, not terrible terrible, but, like, you look sad, you look like you've not been taking care of yourself."

He turned to start putting away the dishes from a clean rack. "I know, Ror," he said, his face pinched with pain. It was strange to see him with his guard down. "It's just been hard."

"I can imagine," I replied softly, savouring his honesty while it lasted. "What...happened? If you don't mind me asking?"

He wiped down a pint glass thoughtfully, turning back towards me. He avoided my gaze. "I asked her to marry me, and she said no," he told me. Then shrugged. "That was that."

I nearly choked on my beer, pressing a napkin to my mouth before speaking. "You proposed?"

Again with the eyebrow. "Surprised?"

"Yeah, a little," I admitted, taking a proper sip of my drink. "Honestly, I never thought you'd be the type to go about things...traditionally."

He nodded in time with the Shins song that was playing (_I feel like I could just fly / But nothing happens every time that I try_). He was still wiping the same glass, but I don't think he noticed. "Well. I've changed," he stated with finality.

I grinned at him with admiration. "Yeah. I know you have." I inhaled, exhaled. "Well, I'm really sorry you have to go through this. She's crazy."

"Who?" he asked, resting his elbows on the bar and leaning towards me. "Nora?"

"Yeah." God, I was blushing again. I looked down at my beer sheepishly. "For saying no. She's crazy."

Just like that, the twinkle is back in his eye. "I seem to recall a certain beautiful blue-eyed someone telling me no about ten years ago," he whispered, looking me dead in the eye. Seeing my reaction, he laughed. "And you gave me exactly the same look you're giving me right now."

I bit my lip, suddenly wishing we were not here, in this bar, with people everywhere. "Jess..."

He barely moved. "Still with James?"

"Yes."

"Still getting married?"

"...Yes."

"You hesitated."

I felt my lip begin to quiver. "Jess," I said again, because I didn't know what else to say. My voice broke, too. God damn it.

He reached out to brush a piece of stray hair from my face, his fingers lingering on my neck a touch too long to be casual. "We have the shittiest timing, don't we?" he asked, his voice like honey. I found myself involuntarily leaning into his touch. "Wanna see the upstairs?"

"What?" I asked, taken aback by the change in subject.

He nodded his heads skywards. "You wanna see the real Truncheon?"

"Uh..." This was _such_ a bad idea. But of course I was going to do it anyway. "Sure."

Telling Isabel he was taking five, he lead me to the back of the bar and unlocked a door which led to a narrow staircase. Gesturing for me to go first, I began to climb, suddenly all too aware that I'd worn these jeans because they made my butt look amazing, a fact which he was most likely noticing now as he climbed the stairs behind me.

The Manhattan Truncheon consisted of three desks, one of which seemed to be in the process of being cleared out—probably Nora's. Another one was probably Isabel's; it was organized with brightly coloured boxes and gel pens. The third was undoubtedly Jess'. Covered in stacks of books and classic number two pencils, with an old typewriter sitting in the corner. I wondered if it was decoration or if he really used it. I could see Jess using a typewriter. There was also some sort of machine which could only be their own printing press. The rest of the room was just boxes upon boxes. There was a mailbox on one end stuffed to the brim with papers and letters, and on the other end was an enormous whiteboard covered in all sort of notes and reminders in three kinds of handwriting. I recognized Jess' elegant scrawl in exclusively black dry erase marker. And underneath the whiteboard—a huge dark leather couch.

"It's not much," Jess said as I took it all in, wandering around to check out finer details.

I gravitated towards his desk and picked up the first book I saw. "_Middlesex_," I said, reading the cover. "Any good?"

He nodded, coming to stand next to me. He leaned in to look at the cover and I could smell him. Cigarettes and leather, just like I remembered. "'S alright," he replied quietly. "Interesting."

"Huh." I turned to look at him. He was so close. "I'm sorry I didn't call," I found myself saying, looking away before I got too tempted to get closer.

He took a step back, confusion briefly marring his face. "What do you mean?"

I took a deep breath. "I just mean generally. We haven't spoken in a few months."

He shrugged. "Did you see me picking up the phone?"

"You were mad."

"Doesn't mean I had a right to be." He shrugged again. "I was a dick at Thanksgiving. I'm sorry, by the way."

I nodded once. "Thanks." Then, "You really didn't have a right, did you?"

He grinned, glad to settle back into our casual banter. "Don't get used to being right."

"I dunno," I replied easily, smiling, "I could get used to you calling yourself a dick."

He looked at me for a long moment before turning away, lacing his hands behind his head. When he turned back, he looked lost, helpless. "We can't keep doing this, Rory."

"Doing what?" I asked, pulling myself up to sit on his desk. I swung my legs out of habit, noticing his gaze lower to watch the movement before they returned to me.

"Fighting and then flirting and then fighting again, and then flirting..." He shook his head. "It's not fair."

"Just dancing around each-other always," I finished for him, nodding. "I know. To be honest, I don't know why I came here tonight. I should have done like you asked, but you sounded so...on the phone, like you needed...I just felt I had to."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "I get it. I'm glad you did." Hands came out of pockets to scrub across his face. "I'm just kind of all over the place and some of things I'm thinking right now I know I'm only thinking because of Nora. And that's not fair to you, or me."

I licked my bottom lip. "I shouldn't be up here." Not a question.

"No." He looked right in my eyes, his piercing gaze making me squirm. He took a step towards me. "But you are."

"But I am." Another step. "Jess."

Another step. "Tell me to stop."

"Jess..."

And another. He was almost touching my knees now. "Tell me to stop, Rory."

"I..." His fingers brushed my knees, slowly coming up to rest on the ends of my thighs. "Jess..."

"Hmm?" He stepped forward, nudging my knees open with his hips so as to stand between my parted thighs. He dipped his head towards me and pressed his forehead against mine, our breathing rapidly increasing and mingling between us. "Just say the word, Rory."

My hands came up to grip his shirt, clutching it like my life depended on it. I could practically taste his lips already, and the feeling was intoxicating. I squirmed, caught between the warning bells going off in my head and the irresistible urge to pull him closer and climb into him.

Luckily, I didn't have to make a decision. At that moment the door to the office burst open and there was Isabel, looking frazzled. "Jess, I need help down here," she called, rolling her eyes at the scene before her before heading back downstairs, leaving the door wide open.

Jess sighed, letting his weight drop forward so his head was leaning against my shoulder. "Timing," he grunted.

I giggled, reaching up to remove the hair tie from his hair and combing my fingers through it. It fell in soft waves to just past his shoulders. "Your hair is so long."

He smirked, nuzzling my neck. "You like?"

"I don't know," I admitted, but I was still playing with it. "It makes you look really different."

"Different good?"

"Just...different."

He sighed again, pulling himself away from my shoulder but still standing between my legs. "Haven't bothered to get it cut." He took the elastic back from me so as to tie it back up. "Haven't bothered with anything recently, really."

"I can cut it for you," I offered.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You cut hair?"

"I used to cut Logan's all the time," I said with a wave of my hand.

"And?"

"And?"

"Does he still have both ears?" I swatted at him with his own copy of _Middlesex. _He laughed and seized my wrist, gaze locked on mine again. "We should go back."

I breathed out. "Yeah."

"Don't get married."

That surprised me. "What?"

"Don't get married, Rory. You don't want to, I know you don't. You're having second thoughts."

I pulled my wrist from his grip and folded my arms over my chest. "You don't know what I want."

"Yes. I do." And he grabbed me by the back of my neck and pulled me to him, slanting his mouth over mine for a deep kiss that took my breath away. When we finally parted, we were both panting and clutching each-other. He was back between my legs, were a distinct warmth was already spreading. "I know because it's the same thing I want," he whispered huskily.

"Jess, I can't." But I was weak. And he knew it.

He kissed me again. And I let him.

"I need some time," I said when we separated. "We both do. I'm not saying no. I just...it's a lot. Especially for where we both are."

He nodded, finally understanding. "Okay." Taking my hand, he led me to the door. "Ready?"

I leaned in to press a light kiss on his bearded cheek. "Yeah."

We went down together.

* * *

><p>AN: Woo, first all Rory chapter! This took me forever. My next fic will be all Jess' POV I think. This Rory business is just getting too hard for me. I just relate to Jess way more.

Anyway, please review! Y'all are seriously the best reviewers I've ever had and you give me so many ideas. Sorry to those who wanted to know more about James. It is coming soon, just not yet!

Also please check out my gender-bender story...it's really intriguing to me but I can't afford to spend time writing something nobody is going to read!


	18. Everyone Can See That This Still Works

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Eighteen – Everyone Can See That This Still Works_

**Jess**

I said good-bye and locked the door behind Rory, her being the last to leave for the night. When I turned, Isabel was standing in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips, looking at me like I was a dog that had shit on her carpet. "What?" I asked innocently, but I could feel the stupid grin on my face.

She rolled her eyes and stalked back behind the counter to count the till. "I can't believe you. You're such an _idiot_," she spat, slamming the till drawer onto the counter. The coins rattled for dramatic effect. "That was _the_ Rory, wasn't it? That girl Nora was always worried about? You guys broke up only _two months_ ago and you're already philandering with the girl who broke your heart, what, three times? Isn't she _married_?"

My grin was long gone. Now I was pissed. "Whoa, whoa. Since when is _any_ of this your business?" I stepped up to the counter, leaning on my spread palms. "First of all, she broke my heart _twice_, and I broke hers too, might I add—"

"Oh that makes _such_ a difference, I feel _much_ better now," Isabel bit out sarcastically.

I carried right on, ignoring her. "And she's not married, she's...well, she's engaged. But that's not married. And she doesn't want to get married anyway! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"Happy for you?" she cried, incredulous. "About _what_, exactly? That you're up there making out with an engaged woman two months after your girlfriend of five fucking years left you without warning? It _is_ my business, Jess." She ripped a new roll of quarters open. "I work with you. You're living on my couch. I've had to put up with you moping around and I've had to be the supportive best friend for weeks—no, _months_! And of course I'm glad to do that, and I mean you can crash on my couch any goddamn time. But for Chrissakes, are you really so self-destructive that you're willing to throw away all these years that it's taken you to get over that girl? _While_ you were with Nora, _might_ I add, _who_, might I _also_ add, is _also _one of my best friends?" She slapped her hands down, bracing herself on the counter for a moment while she collected herself. I had never seen Isabel so angry. She took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Look. Jess. I love you, okay? You now that. You're my best friend. We've been through a lot of shit together. I know these past couple of months have been hard on you, and it kills me to see you so broken. But they've been hard on me, too. To be perfectly frank, you living at my place has kinda put a strain on me and Justin, and I've had to pick up a lot of your slack at work because you're so distracted all the time, not to mention I've now taken over Nora's job, too. What I'm trying to say is, for _fuck's_ sakes, for the love of fucking _god himself_—do _not_ pursue Rory. Not now, not _ever_."

I pursed my lips, feeling the vein in my neck throbbing as I fought for control. My fingers were gripping the counter so hard my knuckles were turning white. "Fine," I growled, reaching to grab my coat. "If that's how you really feel, I'll be out of your place before you get home tonight."

She sighed, loud and exasperated. "No, Jess, that's not what I meant."

"Just—save it, okay?" I went and unlocked the door, some loose snow flakes blowing into the room as I opened it.

She called after me, "Jess, no—wait!"

"Just _fuck off, _Izzy!" I yelled, and slammed the door behind me.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I shut the door softly behind me and tiptoed around as I shed my jacket and boots. The room was dark and I figured James was asleep—but as I approached the bed I found it empty. Glancing around, I saw a sliver of light under the sliding door to the bathroom, and when I pricked my ears I could hear the sound of James brushing his teeth. I quietly got changed into my pyjamas and swept my hair into a bun on top of my head, then turned on the bedside lamp and climbed into bed to read.

The water ran briefly and then James appeared from the bathroom, jumping when he saw me sitting there. "Christ!" he swore, placing a hand over his heart. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Just got here," I said, putting my book aside as he climbed into bed with me. "I'm just gonna go wash up."

After I'd washed my face and brushed my teeth, I got back into bed. He was staring out the window with glazed eyes, obviously zoned out. Playfully, I snapped my fingers in front of his face. "Earth to James," I said with a smile.

He caught my hand and kissed my fingertips, pausing at the one with my engagement ring on it. "Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, studying my ring intently.

"Anything," I replied, leaning onto his shoulder to join him in admiring the ring.

"Do you want to marry me, Rory?" he asked, his eyes never leaving my ring.

I put my hand down, glancing at him seriously. "What?"

"I'm serious." He met my eyes, and his were full of pain. "I'm asking you if you want to marry me. I'd really appreciate an honest answer."

"Of course I do," I said, frowning. I took his hand in mine. "Where is this coming from, honey?"

He leaned forward and grabbed something from the end of the bed. It was my phone, which I only now realized I had left behind. "Your boss kept texting you asking if you were at Truncheon Books," he explained, his fingers curling in the bedspread. "I'd no idea what that was, so I Googled it."

I closed my eyes, exhaling slowly. "James..."

"You went to see him," he said, his voice low and dark. "I drove all the way here to surprise you and spend the night with you...after nearly a month apart...and you went to see _him _instead."

"It's not what it seems," I insisted, grabbing his hand again. He pulled it away quickly. "It was for work. I was reviewing a play reading there."

"What a coincidence," he snarled. He climbed out of bed and paced the room, drumming his fingers agains this thighs. "I didn't even know this guy _existed_ until this summer, and now I suddenly feel like I'm competing with him. Like I've _always _been competing with him. Don't think I missed anything at Thanksgiving with your folks. He was making bedroom eyes at you over the fucking _stuffing_."

My mouth fell open. "He was _not_."

"Everyone can see it, Rory!" he roared, splaying his hands out towards me. "Except you, aparently! Even your _mother_ noticed, I saw her looking between you two like it was a goddamn cricket match!"

I winced, and suddenly I was brought back to a time when I was seventeen, standing like a lost duck on the dance floor in the gym at Stars Hollow High as Dean yelled at me, breaking up in front of everyone, with Jess looking on from the sidelines. _Everyone can see it, Rory. You've been into _him_ since he got to _town_. And I'm _tired_. But I'm over it. So go on, be together! There's nothing standing in your way anymore, because I'm out. _Burying the memory quickly, I stuck my chin out, indignant. "So what if he was?" I shot back. "How is that my fault? It's not like it was reciprocated. I have no control over how Jess looks at me."

"And yet here you are, back after midnight from a quote-unquote play reading at _his_ fucking bookstore. Three hours tops, you told me. You left at not five o'clock this afternoon, Rory! You expect me to believe this is all perfectly innocent?"

"Yes, I do," I replied, scooting to the end of the bed and rising onto my knees. "Because I've never given you a reason not to trust me."

"Oh really?" he asked with venom. "So over the summer when you lied about where you were, who you were with? When you purposefully hid him from me? That's not supposed to send warning flags?"

I was stuck. I glared at him, chest heaving as my brain raced to think of some sort of comeback. But he had me. In our game of chess here, I was the queen backed into a corner with little chance of escape. Floundering, I decided to hurt him. "This is all you, and you know it. You're just insecure and taking your trust issues out on me."

His eyes narrowed and he looked away, telling me I had succeeded in wounding him. He stopped pacing and scrubbed a hand over his face, fingering the pale stubble there. "It's not all me, Rory. It's not. This time, it's not." Lowering his hand, he looked at me again. "I'm gonna give you a chance here, Rory. You tell me nothing happened with Jess, you look me in the eye _right now_ and tell me that, and I'll believe you. Otherwise, well...we'll see."

I paused, taking a deep breath. I thought back to that phone call Jess had made to me in September, when he had asked if we were attracted to broken people because we thought we could fix them. When I'd met James, he had been very...broken. He'd been going through a really horrible divorce after coming home to find his wife in their bed with his best friend at the rarely talked about it because it was obviously a sore spot for him, and I didn't know if he'd ever fully get over it. He and his ex had been high school sweethearts, moved to America together from Ireland, and the split had threatened his green card. He'd almost lost everything thanks to her. Thankfully, though, he had been able to stay in the country, but yeah, he had had a pretty hard time trusting me at the start of our relationship. He'd been wary of every male friend I had, and hated it when I went to Stars Hollow without him. It was part of the reason I'd never told him about Jess. I knew it would make him too paranoid and jealous—my relationship with Jess was just too contentious and I knew that if James had gotten riled up over _Kirk_, he'd go crazy if he knew I'd maintained a very complicated and passionate connection with Jess over the years. But James and I had worked through it together and he had come a long way since then.

Remembering all this now, as James waited for my answer, I realized I couldn't lie to him anymore. It just wasn't fair. "I can't," I whispered, and tears sprang into my eyes immediately, dropping onto the sheet in front of me. I shook my head. "I can't."

His eyes filled with tears as they darted to the side, and his jaw clenched. He shifted his weight, putting his hands on his hips. "What happened."

"We kissed," I sobbed, wiping my nose on the back of my hand. "And not just tonight. We...we kissed when I was here over the summer, when I reviewed my first play for the _Times. _Twice."

"Did you sleep with him?"

I shook my head. "No. Never."

Tears rolled down his cheeks. "Do you love him?" he asked, his voice crackling with emotion.

I just cried harder. "No." Was that a lie? I shrugged sorrowfully. "I don't know." I was full on ugly-crying now. I reached over to grab a tissue from our nightstand, burying my face in it.

James nodded a few times, slowly, before reaching for his jeans and pulling them on. He grabbed his coat and his suitcase, which I only now noticed was already packed, and, leaving his keys on the nightstand, left the apartment, the door shutting softly behind him.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"Rory?" I was surprised that she was calling so soon. I ducked into my favourite coffee shop, which thankfully was open twenty-four hours, and sat in my usual booth in the corner where the uniquely-shaped building made a tight V. New York was full of buildings with strange architecture, and this one was no exception. From here, I was surrounded by windows and could practically see the street at a three-sixty-degree angle.

"Sorry," she said, and I knew right away she was crying. That was all she could get out.

I shrugged my coat off, cradling my phone between my ear and my shoulder. "What's the matter?" I asked as I sat down.

She cried quietly for a few minutes until she could talk again. "James just left," she choked out. "He found out where I was and he knew something happened."

I scrubbed a hand over my beard, sighing. "Shit. I'm sorry, Rory." And I really actually was. I hated to hear her cry. "I just got in a huge fight with Isabel, too. Tonight is not our night." I was trying to make her feel better, but I doubted it was working.

To my surprise, though, I heard a short laugh come out through her tears. "I wouldn't say that." There was a long pause while her breathing returned to normal. "Jess?"

"Yeah, Ror?" I asked softly.

"Can you come over?"

I barely breathed. "What's your address?"

* * *

><p>Since Rory's place was on the upper west side and Truncheon was in SoHo, it took me awhile to get there with all the weekend night traffic. By the time I arrived at her walk-up, it was nearly two in the morning. But she answered when I buzzed her apartment, and then I was climbing the stairs, my heart pounding loudly in my chest with every step I took. It was exactly the kind of building I'd imagined Rory living in, modern but cute in an eclectic sort of way.<p>

She was adorably in her pajamas when she opened the door for me, a loose-fitting t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Her hair was in a messy bun and she looked exhausted. "Hey," she said, stepping aside to let me in.

"Hey, you." I kicked off my shoes and she took my jacket to hang up. I glanced around the dimly lit studio space appraisingly. "I like your place. Very you."

"Thanks." She folded her arms over her chest, standing there awkwardly.

I stepped towards her and pulled her to my chest, leaving her arms folded between us, and tucked her head under my chin. Wrapping my arms around her, I just held her there for a few minutes, feeling her cry silently into my neck. I rubbed her back gently, knowing she just needed a few moments like this to collect herself. When I pulled away slightly to look at her, she was done. "Tell me what happened?"

She chewed on her lip, then shook her head. "Not right now," she said. "I kind of just want to go to bed."

I nodded, knowing she meant to sleep. I let her lead me to her bed, and watched in silence as she climbed in and curled up. Hesitantly, I pulled off my shirt and socks, then, seeing that she wasn't stopping me, I unbuckled my belt, letting my pants drop to the floor. I crawled into the bed next to her and, after she'd switched off the light, I spooned her, holding her body tightly to mine. She sighed and soon her breathing was even with sleep, and I was so comfortable that it wasn't long before I dropped off, too.

I woke to the sound of rain pounding against the windows and roof of Rory's apartment. Huh. So much for a snowy winter in New York. Stretching, I rolled over, finding the bed next to me to be empty and cold. It was barely light outside, though with the weather as it was that didn't really help in giving an indication of what time it was. It could be early morning, or it could be mid-afternoon, for all I knew.

I sat up, running a hand through my long hair, which had fallen out of its bun overnight, and reached for my pants, extracting my phone from the pocket. It was nearly ten in the morning. I heard the shower running in the bathroom behind an opaque sliding screen door; I could see the steam rising above it. Satisfied that Rory was taking a much needed hot shower, I settled back onto the pillows, breathing in the scent of her on the sheets. I grabbed the book off her nightstand, pleased when I discovered it was a biography on Guns & Roses, and opened it to where her bookmark marked her place.

She found me like that, sitting in her bed reading her book. She blushed when I looked up, seeing her standing there wrapped in only a towel. Smiling knowingly, I got up and went to stand in the corner so she could get dressed. Even though there was a crackling tension between us, I didn't know exactly where we stood, and knew boundaries were more important than ever at this point.

"Decent," she called out softly, and I turned. She looked cozy in sweatpants and a long-sleeve t-shirt. She crawled back into the bed, picking up her book, blanching when she saw how far I'd read. "Do you just scan the page once over or something?" she asked, her eyes huge.

I smirked, sitting on the bed beside her. "You of all people should know I'm a fast reader." I reached out to run a finger down her arm. "Besides, I've read it before."

She made a face. "Of course you have." She watched me watching her, her blue eyes round and full of questions. "I guess we should talk." But it was clear she didn't want to just yet.

I hesitated for a moment, just watching my fingers on her skin. "Nah." I let my hand drop and smirked at her. "I think I need a haircut, first. And probably a good shave."

Her face lit up. "I know just the place."

"Thought you were going to cut it?" I teased, eyebrows raised.

She matched my sarcastic expression. "You honestly trust me with a pair of scissors? I only ever trimmed Logan's hair. I don't think I'm qualified to get your perfect devil-may-care 'do."

I laughed. "No, only copious amounts of stinky hair gel can achieve that look," I said, remembering how cool I'd thought I was as a teenager. What a fool I'd been. Though I'd still not managed to completely shrug the chip off my shoulder.

I couldn't help but smile as she threw her wet hair back into a bun and slid on a pair of Toms, not bothering to change out of her comfy clothing. She clearly wasn't a New York native and it was charming. She lived in a studio on the upper west side, and yet she walked around in basically her pajamas. She caught sight of my grin and furrowed her brow. "What?"

I shrugged. "Just admiring your outfit choice."

She blanched, looking down at herself. "I like to be comfortable," she said, but there was doubt in her eyes now.

Gently, I pushed her towards the door. "You'll learn how to be a proper New Yorker eventually," I teased, chuckling softly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She just stood on the doorstep worriedly, so I took her key from her and locked her door behind us as she waited for my answer. She made a loud noise in frustration when I only smiled and brushed by her, leading her down the stairs and out onto the street.

She took me to a barber shop I had actually been to before. I got a straight razor shave and everything, and the old Italian barber tsked at me as he ran his fingers roughly through my unruly hair. When it was all gone, I barely recognized myself in the mirror. I looked about ten years younger. Freshly shaved, I could see my eighteen-year-old self staring back at me. My hair was short on the sides with a bit more length on the top, the perfect condition for the tousled look without any gel being necessary. I caught Rory's eye in the mirror; she smiled and I knew she was thinking exactly the same thing.

While we were there she decided to get her hair trimmed, too, and I sat and read the Guns & Roses bio I had snatched from her place. She narrowed her eyes playfully at me when she saw the evidence of my theft, and I shrugged, returning the grin wholeheartedly before returning to the book, pen in hand as I casually scrawled random thoughts into the margins for her to find later.

Once she was done and her hair about two inches shorter, we headed out to find a good place to get some brunch. Settling on a hole-in-the-wall bagel cafe on forty-sixth street and ordering enough food to feed thrice our party, we tucked into our food and conversation as easily as we had over ten years ago. It was strange and comforting to know we could so quickly fall back into each-other as if no time or drama had happened at all. Even though we had no idea what we were or what was going to happen, I thought it was safe to assume we were both game for just enjoying the moment for what it was while it lasted.

As we finished off the last of our meal, Rory cupped her mug of coffee between her hands, staring at the black liquid thoughtfully. "We can keep putting it off, but I don't think that's advisable," she said quietly, peeking up to look at me.

I sighed, running a hand through my new hair for the millionth time. "I know. We should talk."

"Yeah." Her voice took on the baby-ish quality I remembered so fondly. "Do you want to start?"

"I don't really know where to begin," I admitted.

"Neither do I."

"Huh."

"We could put it off."

"We could."

"But we have to eventually, right?"

"Right. Eventually."

She sighed, placing her head in her hands. "Well the thing is, I don't know where I stand with James. I mean, he left, but we didn't _talk_ really, he just kind of...walked out. I don't know if that means we're over, or he just needs time, or what."

"Needs time?" My brow furrowed. "What are you saying? Would you go back to him if he agrees to take you back?"

She shrugged, sighing. "I don't know."

I clapped my hands together and touched them to my lips, closing my eyes for a short moment. "Rory."

"Well, I don't know! I don't know, I _don't know_. God, believe me, this is just as frustrating for me."

I raised an eyebrow. "Wanna bet?"

She blew a raspberry and shifted in her seat. "Jess, I have to be honest here. I don't think I'm ready for this. For us," she added, gesticulating between us with a wave of her hand. "I've spent the last three years of my life with someone who probably doesn't want me back, and you and I are...well, we've always been complicated. I guess what I'm saying is that I don't want to jump into anything, regardless of what James says."

I stared at my own coffee, which I knew was going cold. The pit in my stomach rolled with nerves. "I understand," I said after a long pause. I met her eyes with my own. "I guess I'm probably in the same spot. I mean, with Nora and everything..."

She nodded, relief washing over her lovely face. "I'm glad you feel that way."

"Yeah." I pushed my mug away and sat back in my seat, hands going to my hair again. "So what now?"

"Now?" She finished her coffee, wiping the rim with her thumb. "Now, we're friends."

I raised a skeptical eyebrow and let out a snort of laughter. "Friends?"

"Friends."

"Since when have you and I ever been just friends?"

"We've always been friends, Jess."

I rolled my eyes. "You really think we can do just friends?"

Her expression was dead serious. "We have to be. At least for...we have to be," she said again with a shake of her head. Her gaze dropped once again to the table.

"Why?" I challenged, leaning towards her. "What's the alternative?"

"Alternative?"

"To being friends."

"Well, there's options, I think."

"Let's hear it."

"Okay." She took a deep breath. "So. Option number one. We _could_ just say fuck it and start dating again."

I grinned devilishly. "Living on the edge. I like it."

She rolled her eyes, ignoring me. "Option number two. I wait until I hear what James has to say and...go from there."

I scrunched up my face. "I don't really like that one, sorry."

She smiled. "Option number three. We...remain friends. Hang out once in awhile, chat on occasion. But nothing more."

I pretended to contemplate it, nodding slowly. "Meh."

"And, lastly..." She sighed. "We stay away from each-other altogether."

I grinned. "That shouldn't even _be_ an option."

"I'm glad you agree." Her smile mirrored my own. "So that leaves..."

"Date right away, wait for James to bail and then date, or be friends for a bit before saying fuck it and dating eventually anyway," I summarized, laughing when she swatted at me with her napkin. "Face it, Rory. Aren't you tired of dancing around this thing? We're both single, now. Why not just go for it? What's the worst that could happen?"

Her eyes went wide. "First of all, I don't know whether I'm single," she said, glancing down at the ring that was still annoyingly on her finger. "Second, the worst that could happen? Really? Do I _need_ to answer that?"

"Yes," I said.

She rolled her eyes yet again. "Come on, Jess. You and I have never exactly had a happy ending."

"Tell me, then," I challenged. "Tell me what could happen." I tried to hide the fact that I was practically giddy with nerves. I was a total fidget, unable to sit still for long.

"You break my heart," she said forcefully. "Or I break yours. Or we both break each-other's. Yet again."

"So nothing new." Feeling bold, I reached out to grasp her hands. She didn't pull away, but I felt her stiffen. Rubbing my thumbs over the backs of her hands, I shook them gently to get her to look at me. "Come on, Rory. We're not kids anymore, we've changed. Everything is different now. But what _hasn't_ changed is this." I nodded between us, at our linked hands. "You and me, together. And it still stands that no matter what happens..._this_ always works." And with that I stood and leaned over the table to press my lips gently to hers. Her response was immediate and intense; her hands came up to tangle in my newly cut hair, pulling me closer, gasping as I gently bit down on her lip. Remembering we were still in public, I pulled away, smirking at her whimper of protest. "Remember?" I was breathless.

So was she. She just nodded, her pupils dilating as her fingers curled in my shirt front. "Jess..."

I sat back in my seat and raised my hand to signal the server. "Check, please."

* * *

><p>AN: Whooooooaaaaaaaaaaa! I LOVED writing this chapter. The past few have been a bit more difficult but this one just _sprinted _out of me. Can't wait to hear your guys' thoughts on this chapter! You guys are seriously so insightful and helpful. It really aids me in writing to hear your thoughts and observations. Often times you guys point out things in the story that I never noticed myself! I love waking up and reading all your reviews in the morning. So keep em coming, please and THANK YOU!


	19. Of Somethings & Iguanas

A/N: Oooohhh,I think y'all are gonna like this one!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Nineteen – Of Somethings and Iguanas_

**Jess**

As I tossed some bills onto the table to pay for our meals, I could see Rory silently mulling things over in her head. She was still clutching her mug between both hands and even though it was now empty, she was staring down into it as if it contained the keys to the whole universe. "Penny for your thoughts?" I asked, standing and slinging my coat on.

She followed suit, though not as deliberately. "It's nothing," she said. "I was just thinking I should get home."

"Okay," I said, holding the door open for her. "Let's go."

She stepped past me, her fingers working nervously at the strap of her purse. "No, I mean _I _should go home."

We strolled along the sidewalk side by side. I shoved my hands in my pockets, hoping my face didn't betray the crazy emotions that were going through my head. "Okay?" was all I could muster.

She sighed, stopping and coming round to face me. "Look, Jess, I just really think I owe it to James to hear what he has to say when he's ready to say it. And yeah, he could decide that we're over. But jumping the gun would be wrong. Not that I haven't already been wrong, but you know what I mean."

I nodded, looking away. Here it comes. I'd been an idiot to think I'd convinced her over brunch. I should have known Rory wasn't as easy as a couple kisses over eggs bennie. I _did_ know that. My hopes had gotten the best of me. Again. Rory continued, unnerved by my silence. "And honestly I'm not sure if I'm ready to be with you."

"And there it is," I quipped, tossing my hands in the air.

She frowned. "What?"

"Rory, if you don't want to be with me, just say it. I'm through wasting my time. I didn't pine for you all those times you rejected me and I'm not going to do it now, so just be honest and get it over with."

"Jess, no. That's not what I'm saying."

"Then what are you saying?" I bellowed, cursing myself for allowing my feelings to get the best of me. "Do you want to be with me or not?"

She paused, her lower lip trembling. "It's not that simple."

I stared at her steadily for a long moment, pursing my lips. "That so?"

"You don't understand."

"Guess not. See you around, Rory." I continued down the street, turning my collar against the wind. I could hear her following me, but my longer legs allowed me to stay well ahead of her.

"You're not ready for me, either!" she called after me. I was reminded of the time I'd chased her around Stars Hollow when I'd gone back to collect my car, right before I'd told her I loved her. Except now she was the one chasing, and I was pretty sure she wasn't about to tell me she loved me. "Jess, come on, stop. Jess! I don't want the last option, okay?"

I whirled on her. "Do I have to reiterate, then? _What do you want_, Rory? Do you want me, or not?"

"Why does it have to be all or nothing?" she cried, holding her hands out towards me pleadingly.

I rolled my eyes. "Because that's always been the case with us."

"No, it hasn't," she insisted, taking a step closer towards me. "It's never been all or nothing, Jess, it's always been _something_."

I tried not to show my surprise. "So?"

"So why can't that something be friends? Or something?"

I threw my head back and groaned. "We're just going in circles now."

"I can't lose you, Jess," she pressed, reaching out to circle my wrist with her small fingers. "We can't be all. We can't be nothing. So let's be...something."

I sighed, running a hand through my hair for what felt like the millionth time. I checked my watch. "I should get to work." Seeing the disappointment flutter across her face, I took her hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk later, yeah?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

I made sure she got into a cab before turning towards the nearest subway station, turning my coat collar up against the chilly winter wind. New York bustled around me, and as I headed to SoHo I let the city swallow me whole.

* * *

><p>"Nice haircut," Isabel said coolly as I let myself into the Café Livre, locking the door behind me. She looked strangely normal today; her platinum hair was up in a simple messy bun and her face was clean of make-up. Even her clothing was dumbed down to a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt with the London Calling album artwork on it that I knew for a fact was mine.<p>

I shivered as the heat of the building thawed out my frozen fingers. New York showed no mercy in the winter. Ignoring Isabel, I kept my jacket on as I made a beeline for the stairs to the offices above. I heard her counting money quietly under her breath and paused by the stairs, wondering whether I was in the mood to get into it with her. I knew we'd have to hash it out eventually, we always did. This wasn't the first time Isabel and I had fought, and it wouldn't be the last. We were both too damn stubborn to get along for extended periods of time.

I'd met Isabel through Matt, who was her second cousin or something like that, back before I'd started working with him and Chris at what had later become Truncheon books in Philly. She and I had clicked immediately and ended up getting a two bedroom basement suite together near Truncheon; our relationship had always been entirely platonic and it had just been like we were meant to be good friends. We'd been roommates until Nora and I decided to move to New York, and when Isabel had come up to visit us over one weekend she'd met Justin and decided to move up, too, and help me open the Manhattan Truncheon, since Matt and Chris were still down in Philly. She, Nora and I formed a trifecta and we'd always been thick as thieves, even though Nora and Isabel together were enough drama to drive me crazy sometimes.

Deciding that after the almost-fight with Rory I was in no mood to start anything with Isabel, I took the stairs to the office two at a time. I jumped when I entered the room and found a stranger at Nora's old desk, bent over a cardboard box full of books and other office paraphernalia. She snapped up when she heard me come in, letting out a startled gasp. Her hand went to her collarbone when she saw me. "Christ, you scared me," she said breathlessly.

I blinked. "Uh, who are you, exactly?" I asked hesitantly. She looked about my age, maybe a little younger. Petite. Chocolate-coloured hair. Big brown eyes, which were currently wide and staring at me.

It was her turn to look confused. "I'm Katie," she explained, shifting her weight uncomfortably. "Isabel said to finish cleaning up up here...?"

It was only then that I noticed the gel key ring around Katie's upper arm. I ran a hand through my newly trimmed hair, blowing a sigh through loose lips. "You're, uh, the new manager?" Damn it, Isabel. She wasn't supposed to hire anyone without talking to me first. I felt the sting of Isabel replacing Nora so quickly. It kind of hit home that Nora really wasn't coming back.

Her brow furrowed. "You must be Jess."

"What's going on here?" I snapped, suddenly just done with this whole day.

Katie looped a strand of her curly hair absently around her pinky finger. She looked down at her feet, which were clad in a pair of pink Chuck Taylor's. "Like I said...just cleaning off this desk."

"It's fine the way it is." I stepped past her and grabbed the box off the floor, placing it firmly back onto Nora's desk. I then realized upon glancing inside the box that it wasn't even Nora's stuff. Furious, I whirled and headed for the door, ignoring Katie's urgent footsteps as she followed me downstairs. "What the hell, Isabel?" I bellowed, coming into the blonde's line of sight in the bar area.

Isabel rolled her eyes. "I see you've met Katie."

"You hired? Without me, without even telling me?"

"Relax, Jess. Katie's the new bartender. With Nora gone and me managing the place and you taking care of everything upstairs, I figured we could use one full time." Isabel shrugged. "Plus, she's hot. She'll get way more tips than you do back here." She patted the bar affectionately.

I blinked, anger melting away quickly to be replaced with weariness from the day's emotions. "So...not the new manager?"

"_I'm_ the new manager, stupid," Isabel scoffed. "Unless you had some plan to replace me."

"No," I said softly, coming around the bar to pull Isabel into a hug. "Of course not."

"You big loser." Her arms came to wrap around me, too, holding the hug for a moment before groaning exasperatedly and pulling away, slapping a lazy hand across my chest. "God, you're such a dumb fuck."

"I'm a dumb, clueless, miserable fuck," I apologized, leaning my forehead against hers. "And I'm sorry."

"Jess, you don't need to apologize for being sad. I get it. We've all been heartbroken. I'm just so sick of seeing you, like, hurt _yourself_, really. You really are better than that." She sighed, stepping away from me and back to the partially counted till. "I'm sorry, too. I was way out of line yesterday."

"You were just trying to be a good friend." And that was all we needed to say. I turned to Katie, who was standing there looking rather awkward. "Sorry, Katie. Shall we start again?"

She laughed, extending her hand towards me. "Sure. Hi. I'm Katie."

"Jess," I said, returning her smile and shaking her hand. No longer blinded by emotion, I let myself register how cute she was. There was a little beauty mark on the apple of her left cheek.

"Okay, it's officially the afternoon," Isabel said, placing the till back into the register and glancing towards the clock, which told us it was indeed several minutes past noon. She held up a bottle of Jack Daniels that I knew was going to be taken off the shelf for good after today. The Café was dark on Sundays and Mondays so we could have a weekend. Isabel poured three glasses of Jack on the rocks and distributed them accordingly. "Shall we?" We raised our glasses to toast.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

Seeing as it was my day off, I spent most of the afternoon wandering aimlessly around the city, too riled up from my morning with Jess to sit at home or be productive. I unlocked my phone several times with the aim of texting Jess, or James, or my mom, but every time I just put my phone away without sending anything, too chicken shit to face any of them. Jess because I knew we both needed our space to think and process for now, James because I still didn't know where we stood and of course still felt sick and guilty, and Lorelai because as soon as she heard my voice she would know something was wrong and then I'd have to tell her everything.

I thought about going home, but I was enjoying the bright winter day too much and I always found that I could think better while outdoors. Plus, there was a chance James would be at home, and I didn't want to just walk in on him. I knew he would contact me when he was ready.

Whenever James and I fought, which was rare but inevitable when in a relationship, he always just cut me off for a few hours or even a day or two while he arranged his thoughts. He wasn't one to make quick or impulsive decisions. He liked to mull things over. We were alike in that regard, though I could sometimes be a bit impulsive, like the day all those years ago when I'd skipped school to visit Jess in New York, or when I'd let Logan convince me to steal that yacht, or how I was behaving with Jess now. Very impulsive, very foolish. And, like every other time I'd made a choice on a whim, there were consequences I now had to face. And the ball was in James' court.

I ducked into a little coffee shop somewhere near Times Square; I'd wandered a lot further than I thought. As I was paying for my large black coffee and doughnut the big guy in front of me moved away and I immediately locked eyes with Nora, who was waiting at the take away counter nodding her head to whatever song was playing through her massive headphones. Her hair was black instead of the bright red it had been last time I saw her, but it was unmistakably her. We both froze, unsure what to do. We both knew we'd seen each-other. There was really no avoiding it.

"Hi," I said awkwardly as I moved towards her to wait for my doughnut.

She forced a smile. "Hey. How's it going?"

"Oh, you know." I waved my hand around vaguely.

She nodded. "Yeah. I hear ya."

My doughnut appeared on the counter and I grabbed it. "Well. Take care."

As I turned to go, I heard her call me back. "Hey, Rory?"

I turned. "Yeah?"

She bit her lip. "Are you busy right now?"

I was too surprised to lie. "Uh, no."

The lady behind the counter handed Nora her cappuccino and Nora gestured to a nearby table. "Could we talk for a bit?"

Wordlessly, I slid into the seat opposite her, my hands automatically coming up to surround my coffee cup. We sipped in silence for a few moments; I could see the cogs turning in Nora's head. Obviously, her desire to chat with me came as much of a surprise to her as it did to me. Finally, she said, "So I guess you heard about me and Jess?"

"No; what happened?" I asked, deciding that feigning ignorance was the right way to go.

She ran her thumb thoughtfully on the brim of her mug. "Well, we broke up."

"Sorry," I said, as sincerely as I could muster. "Was it mutual?"

She smirked. "Not exactly. He...proposed."

I raised my eyebrows. "Wow."

"Yeah."

"And?"

"Well, I said no. And that was that."

"Why did you say no? If you don't mind me asking."

She was playing with the numerous unique-looking rings adorning her small fingers. The ornateness of them matched the tattoos on her fingers perfectly. "I knew it wasn't what he wanted," she said quietly, keeping her gaze on her hands. "I think he just did it because either he thought I wanted it, or because it was expected of him."

"Nora," I said gently, "believe me, Jess doesn't do _anything_ because someone wants him to or because it's expected."

"I know," she snapped. "I was with him for five years. But this time it was different."

How do you talk to a younger person who has been dating your ex-boyfriend for half the amount of time that you've known him? I admitted my uncertainty. "I don't know what to say."

"He was scared," Nora stated bluntly, shrugging. "He wasn't the same after we came back from Thanksgiving. He was really quiet and sought solitude whenever he could. I actually suspected he was planning to propose and was just getting nervous, as so many guys do when the time comes. But then when he did...I dunno, it all kind of clicked for me."

"What did?" I pressed, feeling my hands go cold despite the warmth of my coffee cup.

She fixed me with a hard stare. "What did you say to him?" she asked, her words loaded. "When you guys went outside, at Thanksgiving?"

I blinked, wracking my brain. "Nothing," I said. "I just apologized for James for announcing our re-engagement like that."

"Why the apology?"

I shrugged. "Just seemed necessary."

Nora nodded, thinking once again. Then she sighed. "Sorry. I'm not trying to, like, blame you or anything."

"I know," I said quietly. "You're just trying to understand."

"I just couldn't say yes, you know? I knew it wasn't the right thing to do. And I didn't think there would be any going back after that, so I just...ended it. And I feel like shit about it, I really do." She sipped her drink. "I really miss him." I was speechless once again, so I just gave her a sympathetic half-smile and drank my own coffee. "I just thought you might know where he was coming from. He always said you knew him better than most."

"He said that?" I asked, surprised.

She shrugged. "Apparently."

"Huh." I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Nora, I've no idea what he was thinking. We haven't exactly been close these past few years."

An awkward silence ensued then in which we both just sipped our respective beverages, lost in thought. When Nora spoke, I almost jumped. "I really wanted to hate you, you know," she said, giving a small smile. "But you're too damn nice."

I let out a sharp laugh but didn't respond. If only she knew that just this morning I was begging Jess to consider being _something _with me while he practically seduced me over our brunch. I felt bad for Nora, but I couldn't let myself be too sympathetic for her. If things had been different in my life, my decision had I been in her shoes would have been very different. Then again, if I'd been Nora I probably wouldn't have found myself in her shoes at all, mainly because Jess wouldn't have proposed and I wouldn't have expected him too. I knew Jess wasn't the marrying type, which was the main reason I'd been so surprised at the reason for his and Nora's breakup.

"Well," Nora said after another uncomfortable silence. "I should get going."

"Yeah...take care, Nora," I said, standing and gathering my coat and purse.

She just nodded and headed out, pulling her headphones back over her ears. Feeling a sudden chill that probably wasn't due to the frigid air outside, I put my jacket on and, deciding I couldn't put it off any longer, headed towards home.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

"It's a lizard! A frog! A fucking _salamander_!" Isabel shrieked while I continued to scribble furiously on the whiteboard. She had about ten seconds left to guess what the hell I was trying to draw.

"No, damn it!" I cried, using my pen to emphasize the ridged hump on the creature's back.

Isabel, Justin, Katie and Dimitri were all sprawled out around the Café, drunk and screaming at me to draw more clearly. Our couple of drinks this afternoon had turned into a few more, and our staff meeting had turned into more of a party, complete with Pictionary and the alcohol we were marking out that day. We had brought the huge whiteboard down from upstairs and were using it for the purposes of our game rather than business as planned. Turns out it had been a rough week for everyone.

A general groan resounded around the room when the last of the sand in the hourglass fell to the bottom half. Time was up. I threw the card at them, shaking my head at their hopelessness. "It's a goddamn _iguana_."

"Fuck! I think we guessed every reptile except that one!" Isabel cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "God, we suck."

I smirked. "You're just drunk."

"_You're_ drunk," Isabel retorted, but she hiccoughed, which sent the room into a fit of giggles. "God, I love you people!"

In my drunken stupor, I realized how much I indeed loved these people, too. Even Katie, who I'd known all of seven hours, was fitting right in with the rest of us crazy Truncheonites. She was funny and laid-back, and she was currently holding her liquor better than all of us, even though she had matched us drink for drunk. She was lounging on her stomach on top of one of the long community tables in dark wash jeans and a tight black tank top; from where I was sitting, I had a perfect view of the swell of her breasts as they disappeared into her top. As I took a sip of my beer, she looked up and caught me looking. She smiled knowingly, and shifted as if to emphasize her body even more. Tease.

I got up to grab the next round from behind the bar, but before I could make it back there I heard sharp knocking at the front door. We had drawn all the blinds so I couldn't see who it was, but they kept knocking urgently and with force. Glancing towards Isabel, who just shrugged, I went to the door and peered through the blinds. "Oh, fuck."

"Who is it?" Isabel called from her spot near the stage.

I blamed my alcohol for my lack of rationality in that moment. Unlocking the door, I swung it open and beamed up at a slightly bewildered looking James Connolly. "Hey, James!" I cried, opening my arms to him in greeting. "Fancy seeing you here!"

"You're drunk," he stated, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed me in the dim light of the entrance way. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.

"And you're Captain Obvious," I retorted sarcastically, plastering my most winning smirk on my face. "Rory's not here," I added for good measure, looking over my shoulder to confirm this.

James' eyes were ice hard. "How bout you step outside for a minute."

"Ah, see, I would, but I'm kind of in the middle of a game with my friends here." I make a sweeping gesture to where the four of them sit; all except Isabel wave. Izzy has a slightly concerned look on her face.

"I'll just take care of this here, then," James spat, and then he grabbed me by my shirt and hauled me out of the doorway, tossing me down onto the sidewalk in front of the Café.

As I hit the pavement, _hard_, I heard shouts from within the bar. But James had lifted me by my collar and wailed on my face with his fist—once, twice, three times—before Dimitri and Justin hauled him off of me. Isabel and Katie were by my side immediately, their concerned faces hovering over me as they called my name and asked if I was okay. Of course I wasn't fucking _okay_. For what it was worth, James had quite the right hook. My ears were ringing and my vision was swimming and I felt sick. I turned my head to spit, and I tasted blood.

James was looking down at me with a look of pure disgust, his blond curls askew on his forehead. "You know what that was for, you son of a bitch," he snapped, spitting in my direction. Justin tightened his grip on James' arm. "Consider yourself officially uninvited to our wedding, wanker." And with that, James shrugged Dimitri and Justin off of him and strode off down the street, the light dust of snow that had just begun to fall swallowing him into the shadows of New York.

"Take him upstairs," Isabel ordered Katie, helping her help me to my feet. The world span around me and I stumbled; Katie caught me, steadying me with a firm hand on my abdomen. "There's a first aid kit in my desk drawer," Isabel added as I let Katie steer me back into the bar, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

We clamored up the stairs to the office, where Katie sat me down on the couch and went in search of Isabel's first aid kit. When she returned to me, she knelt in front of me and began cleaning the gash in my lip with a piece of gauze. "I'm guessing we don't like that guy," she said softly, a small smile playing at the corners of her full mouth.

"That guy's whatever," I slurred, blinking at her through my bleary vision. "I fucked up."

"Did you now?" she asked, her voice lilting with the tone of one who is trying to appease a very drunk person.

"Don't condescend me." I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Hurts."

"Almost done here," she assured me, giving my lip a final few wipes before discarding it into a nearby trashcan. "You alright?"

I just sat there breathing for a few minutes. The punches had sobered me significantly, but now I just felt really sleepy. "Katie..."

"Yeah, Jess?"

I reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. She looked away, a shy smile on her lips. "Would it be weird if I kissed you, Katie?"

She giggled. "A little, but I wouldn't stop you."

Smiling, I leaned towards her to brush my lips with hers. They were foreign to me, but they were nice. Soft and velvety and wet. She opened up to me almost immediately, allowing me to tangle my tongue with hers. An involuntary moan escaped me and she responded wonderfully, climbing up into my lap and straddling my thighs. Cupping my face in her hands, she pulled me closer, and I ran my hands wantingly up her back. "Should lock the door," I mumbled against her mouth as her lips worked their way along my jawline.

"Already took care of it," she whispered back, nipping gently at the skin near my Adam's apple. I growled in response and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head and tossing it aside somewhere. My shirt soon followed suit, and then Katie was tugging at my belt buckle with nimble fingers.

There were few moments in my life where I could just stop thinking and just do whatever my body was telling me to do. This was one of them, and my body wanted Katie's body, and so with her permission, I indulged.

* * *

><p>AN: Jeez. Only took me all day to write this chapter. I kept getting distracted. I was wanting to write two chapters today, but then Spotify and Netflix happened, and...well, you know. I don't get much done on my days off apparently.

Please read and review! I have missed your guys' comments since the last chapter came out. I will try ti reduce waiting times between chapters, I swear!


	20. Unfinished Business & Strawberry Fields

A/N: To those of you who were upset with the turns the last chapter took, I'm sorry to disappoint you. I did not expect such a reaction from it, and it certainly wasn't my intention to frustrate you or, god forbid, make you walk away from my story. I'm trying to create a realistic impression of how a relationship develops when the parties involved share lots of hurt and drama; I mean come on, they dragged out the Luke and Lorelai thing for seven seasons, there's no way it wouldn't take forever for Jess and Rory to get back together. Anyhow, I do hope you continue to stick with this story as I value your feedback greatly. Hopefully the coming chapters will make up for the previous one. Much love!

**Eight and a Half**

By Imagine Backstory

_Chapter Twenty – Unfinished Business & Strawberry Fields_

**Rory**

"Rory?"

"Jess? It's two in the morning."

"Is it?"

"Yes, Jess. What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was so late."

I huffed impatiently. "It's fine. What's up?"

"I'm really sorry, Rory. I probably woke you up."

I recognized the telltale slur of his words and sat up in bed, running a hand through my knotted hair. "Are you drunk, Jess?"

A slight pause. "No. Maybe. Yeah, kinda."

I sighed, loud and long. "What's up?" I asked again, trying to sound gentle. As much as it gave me a thrill to get a phone call from Jess, I was never one to appreciate being woken up in the middle of the night by a drunk person.

"I couldn't go through with it, Rory," he said pleadingly. "I didn't and I couldn't."

"Go through with what?"

There was a long pause during which I could hear him breathing heavily. I balled my sheets in my hands, trying to ignore the big empty space in the bed next to me where James would have been. Outside the city raged on, but it still seemed quiet in my apartment. I waited patiently for Jess to collect his mismatched thoughts. Then, his voice came over the line, soft and low. "I almost slept with someone tonight." His voice caught. "But I didn't, Rory. I couldn't."

I bit my lip, unsure how to take this news. On the one hand, it wasn't like we were exclusive. We weren't sure _what_ we were. But I still felt a little stung. Just this morning he had been begging me to be with him, to _want_ to be with him. It was confusing and way too much for two in the morning. I sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"I didn't do it because I love you, Rory." His voice was firm. Sure. Certain. He really believed himself.

My eyes went wide. "Jess...?"

"Meaningless sex may be the way I've handled some things in the past, but I'm not doing that now. I'm going to wait for you. Even if you get married. I will wait for you."

I was shaking. I drew my blankets around my shoulders, but I knew it wasn't from cold. I felt a tingly sensation all over my body. "I seriously doubt I'm getting married," was all I could manage.

"That's not what James seems to think."

I straightened, frowning. "What?"

"He told me I am officially uninvited to your wedding, so I'm assuming it's still on."

My stomach plummeted. "When did he say that?"

"Tonight," Jess said. "After he punched me three times."

"Oh my god." I jumped out of bed and reached for my jeans and a sweater. "He _hit_ you?"

"Got the bruises to prove it," he muttered. "And maybe a cracked rib or two from when he threw me onto the sidewalk."

"Christ almighty," I spat, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I dressed. "I'm coming over. Are you okay?"

"Don't come over," he insisted. "It's not a good idea, Rory. I'm still at Truncheon, and there's lots of people here,and I'm still drunk. I'm fine, just banged up. I'll live."

I stood in the middle of my apartment seething, one sock on and one dangling limp in my hand. Warring with myself about what I should do, I barely heard the key turning in the lock before the door was being pushed open. "Jess, I have to go," I said into my phone before ending the call and tossing it onto my bed.

James froze in the doorway, having caught the end of my conversation. He didn't look angry; in fact, I couldn't quite place the look on his face. Hurt? Sadness? Guilt? I felt rage boil up in me as my fists clenched. "You _hit him_?" I demanded, facing off with him from across the room. "You hit Jess?"

"I didn't plan on it," James pleaded, shutting the door softly behind him. "I mean it. I was just walking around and I was upset and I wanted to just talk to the guy, set things straight. Tell him to back off, all the like. But when he opened the door..." James sat down on the couch and placed his head in his hands. "It drove me crazy. He was drunk and he had this fucking smug grin on his face and he was being all cocky...I couldn't help it, Rory, I was so angry, I just snapped. But I don't even feel bad about it, really, considering what he did to me."

As pissed as I was, I believed James. I knew Jess had the capacity to push guys to their limit, especially in a territorial situation. I'd seen it countless times with Dean, and even with Logan, Jess had challenged him only by raising an eyebrow. I folded my arms over my chest. "I know you're pissed. You have every right to be. But what's going on is between you and me. Leave Jess out of it."

"Leave him out of it?" James said incredulously. "He's the reason we're in this whole mess!"

"Well, it takes two to tango," I snapped.

James gave me a very dark look. "I'd sooner beat the crap out of him than think about your part in all this. It just hurts too goddamn much."

I shook my head and looked at the ground. "I know. I fucked up, okay? I know."

There was a long pause. James got up and went to the kitchen to make some tea. I followed him aimlessly, keeping my arms around myself, and watched as he went through the motions of boiling water, placing a teabag in a mug, my favourite mug, and pouring the water over it.

"You've wrecked my trust, Rory," James said quietly after he'd taken a few sips of his tea. "And I don't know if you can fix it. Even if you promise it will never happen again...I won't believe you." He shook his head, blinking tears out of his eyes. "I'm not stupid, you know. I _know_. I knew as soon as I heard the fucker's voice over the phone that there was unfinished business between the two of you."

Only when I let out a strangled sob did I realize I was crying. "I'm so sorry."

He sighed. "I know you are."

"It's over, isn't it?" I wailed.

When James looked at me, our eyes were matched in their wetness. As a tear rolled down his cheek, he nodded solemnly. "I just don't know what else to do, love," he said. "It fucking kills me. But I just don't see where we could go from here but down."

My heart sank, but I knew there was no point in arguing. He was right.

He stepped forward, taking me into his arms as I broke down, soaking his shirt with my tears. I felt his sobs wrack through his body and mine, and we just held each-other and cried for a very long time. Finally, after we had both run dry, he pulled away, gently kissing my forehead. "Good-bye, Rory."

"I'm sorry," I said again.

Then he was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Jess<strong>

The next day I nursed my hangover by taking a long walk through Central Park. Isabel had been pretty pissed that morning when I told her we couldn't hire Katie on. It would just be too awkward under the circumstances. Even though Katie had been pretty understanding when I'd stopped the action before we took things too far, I couldn't bear to be reminded of the huge mistake I'd almost made when I went to work every day. Still, thank god I'd had that moment of clarity when Katie's fingers had curled around the waistband of my boxers. Suddenly, Rory's face had appeared clear as day before me, and I'd stopped Katie immediately, unable to continue.

It was a brisk and chilly morning in the Park, and I kept my hands in my pockets to prevent them from freezing off. At least the sun was shining. One could certainly see a lot more of the Park now that the trees were bare and bony. It was still beautiful, just in a more barren way.

Feeling my phone buzz in my pocket, I extracted it and peered down at the incoming text message.

_Hungover?_

I smiled a keyed a quick message back. _Better believe it. But it's a beautiful day._

Her response was almost instantaneous. _That it is. Walk?_

_Already in the park._

Ding. _Me too..._

My head whipped up, as if by some miracle Rory would happen to be nearby. I shot her a text back. _Where?_

_Strawberry Fields._

_Omw. Wait for me._

_Always._

I stopped in my tracks, ignoring the people who cursed at me as they'd been walking behind me, and stared at the message. _Always. _What did that mean? I was never one to scrutinize text messages, but I was incredibly intrigued by this one. Did this mean...? Even after last night? I thought I'd blown it for sure...

I was pretty sure I made it across Centra Park in record time, beelining for Strawberry Fields. There she was, perched on a bench, her nose in a book. I stopped and just looked at her for a moment, reveling in the essence of _Rory _before me, and suddenly she looked not a day over seventeen when I'd first met her. Book and all, she was a vision in the winter, the soft dusting of snow layering everything around her, her nose and cheeks rosy from the cold. She looked up as I approached her and a smile broke out on her lovely face. "Hey, you."

"Hey yourself," I said, taking a seat beside her. I leaned into her to look at her book. "Good book?"

"Very," she said brightly, holding it up so I could see the cover.

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously?" She nodded with a giggle. "How many times have you read that thing?"

"Maybe thirteen?" she said with a shrug.

I couldn't help but smile as I took her copy of _The Subsect _from her and checked the inside cover. There was the inscription I had handwritten all those years ago. _Dream as if you'll live forever, live as if you'll die today – James Dean. _"You're such a kiss-ass."

"You should have known I would analyze every square inch of it, Mister shows-up-at-my-grandparents'-house-with-his-very-own-book-and-lets-me-keep-a-copy."

I laughed. "It was dangerous, I suppose. But you know me. I like to live on the edge."

Rory smiled and leaned her head on my shoulder. I took her hand in mine, and we sat there like that for awhile, just breathing in the winter air and being in each-other's company. "James and I broke up," Rory said quietly after awhile of silence.

I took a deep breath. "Really?"

"Mhm. It's really over."

"I'm sorry."

She smiled. "No, you're not."

I looked down at her. "I am if it means you're hurting."

She regarded me steadily as we both realized how close our faces were. "I'm hurt that I hurt him. But really, these past few days have just made me realize that James and I weren't supposed to be together. He's a good person, and I did love him. But..." She trailed off, burying her face in my shoudler.

I put my arm around her and pulled her closer. Feeling her shiver, I rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "Wanna get some coffee? Get out of the cold?"

"You know me so well," she mewled as we got up in search of warmth.

* * *

><p>We were back at my favourite coffee shop, in the triangular part surrounded by windows, sipping black coffee and reveling in each-other's company. For the first time in a long while, it didn't feel even slightly wrong to be with Rory. I wasn't worried about Nora, or James, or Luke, or Lorelai, or Dean, or Logan, or anything or anyone. We were together, and we were friends if nothing else, and there was absolutely nothing wrong with it.<p>

After a brief lull in the conversation, Rory groaned. "I have to call my mom at some point today," she said. "It's been a few days since we talked and she probably thinks I'm dead."

"Why are you avoiding her?" I asked, knowing all too well Rory only avoided speaking to Lorelai if she had a good reason to.

Rory bit back a smile. "Just with everything that was going on. I don't feel like getting into it with her."

"You have to tell her about you and James," I pointed out, "at least."

"At least," she repeated, her gaze dropping to her coffee. "Jess..."

"Me first," I said, covering her hands with mine. "I need to apologize for yesterday. I asked too much of you too soon. I know you're not one to make impulsive decisions. I shouldn't have pushed, and I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too," she said quietly. "For being so damn indecisive."

"You don't need to apologize for how you are by nature," I replied, smirking when she playfully whacked me on the arm. Then I got serious. "And I'm sorry about last night, too."

She waved her hand around, dismissing me. "Let's just call that a bad night and not talk about it again, okay?"

I nodded, grateful. "Okay."

"Jess, I..." She took a deep breath and met my eyes, her piercing gaze taking my breath away. "I do want to be with you. It's just, the timing is..."

"Not our strong suit," I finished for her, grinning in spite of myself. I reached out and gently brushed her cheek with my finger. "I understand, Ror. Take as long as you want. I'm not going anywhere, this time. I promise."

She leaned into my touch, her eyes vibrant with life. "Thanks."

"I do love you, Rory."

She bit her lip as a smile curled her lips upwards. "I love you, too, Jess."

* * *

><p>Rory grimaced as she finally hung up the phone, and I couldn't help but snicker slightly. "Well, that's over with," I said with a smirk.<p>

She groaned and leaned her head back on the couch. She flicked her wrist out to look at her watch. "There goes two hours. I knew I should have waited."

"Hey, it was my idea," I reminded her gently, pulling her into my side for a cuddle. "And come on. I know you hate hiding things from your mom."

"That's true," she conceded, snuggling into my chest.

We were on the leather couch in the office at Truncheon, which had served as my bed for the past few days. Even though Isabel and I had made up from our fight, I felt uncomfortable to put her and Justin out any longer. I still hadn't heard from Nora about my apartment, so I assumed she was still there. At this point, I wondered if she had been planning on staying there all along.

Rory and I had wandered back to Truncheon after having coffee, and once we had situated ourselves in the office I suspected she got a bit nervous and opted to phone Lorelai instead of wallow in the fact that we were alone and in private for the first time since being respectively single. I got a surprising amount of work done while she was on the phone, feeding off the energy in the room as Rory combated with her mother's rapid-fire questions.

"So she knows that James and I split up. And she knows you and Nora split up. I know she's suspicious but surprisingly she didn't say anything." Rory turned her head to look up at me; the sight made my heart flutter. "Is this real life?" she wondered quietly.

I pressed my forehead to hers, breathing in the scent of her. "I've been asking myself that all day."

She sighed contentedly. "God, I don't want to go to work tomorrow."

"Me neither," I admitted, my heart sinking a little at the realization that we were once again short a bartender. Not to mention it would mean a whole day apart from Rory. Not that we had many any plans, but I had the sneaking suspicion we would be seeing a lot more of each-other in the days to come. I wondered what she would look like padding around the Café in nothing but one of my dress shirts, the morning light filtering through the shut blinds, and I licked my lips at the thought. I knew I was getting ahead of myself—Rory still needed time, and I knew sleeping together was probably still a bit of a long shot. But a guy could dream, right?

I was so curious, it hurt.

_Keep thinking what you're thinking._

Ah, the sweet torture that was Rory Gilmore. She was at once sweet and seductive, her playful nature offset by the bedroom eyes she so often unknowingly swung my way. In fact, she was giving me that look now.

Unable to resist, I slanted my mouth over hers, kissing her softly and then adding pressure, gently coaxing her to open up to me. She did with a soft moan, a noise which shot straight to my groin. I moved over her, gently leaning her back onto the couch and crawling over her, suspending my weight on my elbows. I was reminded affectionately of all those times we had made out on the couch in Luke's apartment, interrupted periodically by Lorelai or Luke himself in their attempt to keep Rory and me vertical. She had the innate ability to make me feel seventeen again, no matter how old we really were.

I ran my hands up her body, feeling the soft curves of her, as her hands came up to tangle in my hair, pulling me even closer to her. I gently let some of my weight settle on her, gasping as she squirmed against me, and felt my toes curl as she bit down on my bottom lip and tugged. My fingers snuck under the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin at her hip. She gasped, giggling. "Your hands are freezing."

Smirking, I ran my hand higher, fingers gently teasing the underwire of her bra. She shivered beneath my touch, her eyes fluttering closed, and she breathed out slowly as I gently reached higher to cup her breast. He dragged my mouth back to hers as I kneaded her, letting our tongues tangle once again.

She shifted slightly under me and I let out an involuntary grunt as she brushed against the hottest part of me. I pulled away from her kiss, our breathing shallow and mingling between us. "We should stop," I whispered, brushing a piece of hair from her face.

She groaned and nuzzled my neck. "Don't wanna."

I chuckled softly, cradling her to me. "I know. Me neither. But we're taking this slow, right? Whatever this is," I added with a smirk.

"Shhh." She snuggled further into me and I was perfectly content to just lie there holding her, feeling her heart pounding in sync with my own. I wanted to pinch myself. Do something to truly drive home that this was real, that I was holding her, that I had her, and I didn't even have to feel guilty about it anymore. It was freeing but also completely strange and uncharted. I hadn't been able to call Rory mine since we were seventeen and eighteen, respectively. And even then, I'd never had a firm grasp on her; I'd pushed her away, as I had everyone I cared about.

This time was different, though. I wasn't eighteen anymore. I wasn't running anymore, unless it was to Rory. We were taking things slow, yes, but it would happen eventually. I could feel it in my bones.

It was only about four o'clock, but I felt Rory drifting off to sleep on my chest, which in turn made me feel sleepy. Closing my eyes, I let myself feel truly happy for the first time in what felt like forever.

* * *

><p><strong>Rory<strong>

I felt like I was floating when I went to work the next day, despite the range of emotions that were cascading through me at any given moment. Mostly I thought about Jess and the day we had spent together yesterday; the walk in the Park, the steamy make-out session on the couch and the blissful nap afterwards. We had parted in the evening awkwardly and sweetly, with a tender kiss that made my knees buckle, and he'd promised to call me when he was done work today. Occasionally thoughts of James would break in, though I tried to push them aside to deal with when I wasn't feeling so smitten with the dark-eyed boy from my past.

People around the office definitely noticed the difference in me, though nobody could quite figure out what it was exactly. Did I cut my hair? Did I get new make-up? Did I lose weight? Was I pregnant? The last question had thrown me but upon further discussion the consensus was that I was glowing.

I had to admit it freaked me out a little. I did love Jess, and I had told him so, but I couldn't possibly be _in love _with Jess, could I? After all these years of cat and mouse, and our complicated relationship for the last half-year, and the messy _something _that we were now.

Still, I wasn't about to let my happiness go to waste. I let it propel me into action, and I ended up tackling many assignments in one day that I had been trying to complete all last week.

As I was finishing up for the day, Tucker stuck his head into my office. "Word around the office is that you're pregnant," he said jokingly as he leaned in the doorway.

I laughed, rolling my eyes. "Not pregnant. Just happy."

"What's the occasion, princess?" he asked, eyebrow raised.

I smiled coyly. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Oh, honey, spare me the gory straight details. You know they don't quite rev my engine," he chided with an effeminate flick of his wrist. "Listen, I wanted to talk to you about your review for the play reading the other night."

I blinked. I had nearly forgotten about it. "I did hand it in, right?"

"Yes, you did." Tucker took a seat across from me, crossing his right ankle on his left knee. "I gotta say, babe, not your finest work."

I felt a flush creeping up my neck. I cleared my throat. "I had a busy weekend. Sorry. I can rewrite it, if you want."

He waved his hand vaguely. "Not necessary. Honestly, we'll probably just pull it."

I knew my face probably betrayed my disappointment. "Oh."

"It's nothing personal. I mean it was good enough that we definitely _could_ run it. Listen, Rory." He sat forward, leaning on his elbows. "You know I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but unfortunately I have some."

My heart sank at the tone in his voice. Whatever he was about to say, it wasn't good. "Yeah?"

Tucker sighed, running a hand through his thinning hair. "Boss wants to pull your column." My mouth fell open but Tucker pressed on before I could say anything. "It's nothing personal, or any issue with your work—you know we all love your work, that's why we hired you—but we never get many responses to the performance review section and frankly, we need the space for other stories."

"But this is _New York_," I said incredulously. "Theatre is part of this city's culture. How could it not be getting attention?"

"I don't know what to tell you, babe. Now, nothing is certain yet. You still have your column, at least for the next couple of weeks. But beyond that, I just wanted you to be prepared."

"So what then?" I asked, all traces of my previous happiness out the window. "What else could I write?"

Tucker avoided my gaze. "We'll have to look into that."

"So you're saying you might not have another column for me?"

He rubbed his hands together, looking tortured. "I'm sorry, kid. This is killing me."

I was horrified to feel tears burn at the back of my eyes. I hastily wiped at them with my thumb. I didn't say anything, couldn't. Tucker just gave me a sympathetic look and got up to leave. "For what it's worth, I'm rooting for you, Rory. I'm not gonna let you go down without a fight. I'm doing everything I can."

I put my face in my hands as he left my office, knowingly closing my door behind him. Feeling the rising panic in my chest, I pulled out my phone and dialed the only person who could possibly make me feel better right now.

"Hello?"

"Hi." I drew a ragged breath.

"Rory?" His voice was instantly concerned. "What's wrong?"

"I think I'm going to get fired, Jess," I mumbled, pressing my palm to my eyes to stop the tears. "What am I going to do?"

"What? Why would they fire you?"

"No one likes my column apparently," I sobbed.

He paused. "I like your column."

"You do?" I asked, surprised.

"Yeah. I always read it."

"You do...?"

He chuckled. "Yeah, Rory. I do." Then, "What can I do, Ror?"

I wiped at my eyes, determined to pull myself together. "Nothing, it's okay. Just wanted to hear your voice."

I could practically hear his smile. "Atta girl. There's the trooper Rory I know and love. Seriously, though, are you alright?"

"I will be," I replied. "Sorry to bug you."

"Hey, you can bug me anytime," he laughed. "I'm bored out of my skull here. Which is weird because I'm also busy as fuck."

"Isn't it good to be busy?" I asked.

"Yeah, but not when you're doing three people's jobs. We still haven't found a full-time bartender so I'm doing that most of the time. On top of my usual publishing work and now one of my best god damn editors quit so I have to pick up his slack."

"Jesus," I breathed, taking my hair out of its bun and running a hand through it. "So where I may have a lack of work, you have a surplus."

"Yeah," he chuckled brazenly, "if you do get fired you should just come work here."

I knew he'd only said it in passing, but I froze. "Could I?"

I heard him blanch. "Uh—really?"

"You said you need an editor," I said with a shrug I knew he couldn't see. "I _was_ the editor of the Yale Daily News..."

There was a slight pause. "Let's talk tonight," he said, the familiar lilt coming into his voice so I knew he was smirking. "Over dinner. I'll pick you up at seven."

"My, you know how to charm a girl," I said with a playful roll of my eyes.

"Consider it a business meeting."

I grinned. "I look forward to it."

* * *

><p>AN: Hopefully you guys liked that better than the last one! Please stick with me! I promise that Literati is and always has been end-game!


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